Cece's Soul Man
by theotherkayeiffel42
Summary: Calloway Curtis, the St. Helens screwball and R B music-lover, is called to the Reverend Mother's office, where she finally learns the truth about her parents.  Namely, her father was none other than Jake E. Blues.  Please read/review, more parts to come.
1. The smell of Joliet prison

Callie sat quietly outside Mother Mary Constance's office, waiting to be called in. She twirled one of her light brown braids with her index finger, straining to listen through the walls…nothing. She kept fidgeting as she thought. Why had she been called in this time? Sure, there had been other moments like this. Like when she'd stolen Sister Therese's ruler and used it as a second drumstick, or when she'd snuck her iPod and a cable into the lunch hall and blasted her R+B playlist. Then again, there was always the time she'd run the driver's education car into the side of the bank while trying to weave through traffic. Callie smiled to herself at those memories, the lunch hall incident especially. The look of horror on Mother Mary's face was gold,_**pure**_ gold, but she couldn't understand it somehow. Just the same way she couldn't understand why rhythm and blues music was banned at St. Helens.

All the same, that was why she played it in the first place.

"You may come in, Calloway," said Mother Mary's voice from behind the closed door.

Callie stood up and brushed off her tartan skirt as the door opened. She turned and stepped over the threshold, accidentally bumping the shoulder of a gawky man with glasses and a star badge.

"Sorry," she mumbled. As she glanced sideways, she noticed him giving her a strange look. "What'cha lookin' at?" she asked.

The man coughed, seeming embarrassed. "Sorry miss, I just thought I'd see you before."

"Hm." She smiled evilly. "Well, I can sure see myself on your forehead, baldie," she snarked, and before he could squawk a protest, Callie had breezed past him and into the office.

"Yes, Reverend Mother?"

Mother Mary Constance slowly looked up from her papers. "Calloway. Please sit down." Callie's eyes drifted automatically to the one desk at the back of the room.

"Not there, dear," came Mother Mary's stern voice. "Up here, where I can see you."

Callie sighed. The old bat didn't miss a thing. She reluctantly shuffled forward and stiffly eased into the chair by her desk.

Mother Mary peeked at Callie over her glasses. "Do you know why you're here, Calloway?"

"No, ma'am." Callie was telling the truth. She honestly didn't know why she was at that moment sitting in the Reverend Mother's office, and she had a feeling it was going to take a little while to find out.

Mother Mary stood up. "Well Calloway, I expect you know what today is?"

"Darn right ma'am, it's my birthday." She cringed, realizing she'd nearly sworn. The Reverend Mother glared at her for a moment or two and then relaxed and went on.

"Yes, it is your birthday." She reached for a box at the side of her desk. "You are seventeen now Calloway, and I have something here with me that ought to belong to you."

Now Callie was starting to be afraid. Five times. Mother Mary had used her full first name five times, even though she herself had abhorred it for being unladylike, and now there was a present? None of the orphans ever got presents on their birthdays. Even Christmas was lean, in spite of anonymous donations. So what exactly was going on? Something very very strange, that was for sure.

Mother Mary placed the box in front of her. "This was brought here for you by Mr. Franks, the prison collection officer." She paused to aim another glare in Callie's direction. "The one you called 'baldie.'"

"Oh yeah. Right." Callie now looked uneasily at the box. It was an oversized shoebox, beat-up and bulging as it was. "And…why is it mine, again?"

The old nun sighed heavily as she stood. _"It's a wonder she's still alive,"_ Callie thought, easing up the box lid. She remembered when she was little, the Reverend Mother didn't even have glasses. But she'd always been the Reverend Mother, so Callie supposed eyesight didn't matter too much in the grand scheme of things. She lifted the lid a tad more. Now she could see a lump of black fabric and a mass of papers. That's when the smell hit her.

"The contents of that belonged to and were the prized possessions of your father," Mother Mary answered at last, but Callie was still reeling from the stench.

"Phew! Shit Mother, what's in-OW!" She rubbed the back of her head where she'd been struck with the pointer.

"That will be quite enough, Calloway," said Mother Mary.

Six times. That was six times she'd been called Calloway. With that realization, the news finally sunk in.

"My father?"

Over the years, this topic had proved difficult for Callie to broach. The first time she'd asked about her parents was when she was six. The query had been posed to a newly-anointed sister who, unfortunately for kindergarten-age Callie, knew nothing on the topic. The second time was during a counseling session with Sister Marguerite when she was ten. To her disappointment, Mother Mary Constance swept in and ended the conversation. However, things took a surprising turn when Callie was dragged out of Sister Marguerite's chambers and sent to her room while Mother Mary locked herself in for a "chat." After that, Callie never brought her parents up again. A few times, she'd dreamt up a plan to steal her files, but she had always decided against it. She figured, _"What's the point, since they're already dead?"_ But now the subject was out in the open, and she wasn't about to let the moment get away.

"Who was my father?" Callie demanded. She grimaced briefly as she fully removed the lid from the box, but held her ground. "Who was he?" She darted a hand inside the shoebox. "And why does this stuff smell so-" she stopped herself, "effing bad?"

"That, my dear, would be the smell of Joliet Prison." Mother Mary spoke stiffly, offended partly by Callie's language, but otherwise by the smell. "Your father was a known criminal."

"I'll bet." Getting used to the smell, Callie drew the box into her lap, poring over the top view of the contents. On the side with the papers, she spied the edge of a typewritten transcript. Callie smiled grimly, pinching it and pulling. Fully unfolded, it was nearly as tall as she was.

"Wow," she murmured, squinting at the seemingly endless entries. "How many times did he get locked up, anyway?" She waited for an answer but received none, so she shrugged and tossed the record aside. Next, Callie went after the fabric mass. She discovered a black suit coat and pants with a matching fedora, and nestled inside the fedora was a black clad pair of sunglasses. Callie began to chuckle. "No way. No way." She started to refold the pants. "Did he like, work for the CIA or something?"

Mother Mary sniffed. "Unlikely. In fact, quite the opposite."

"Oh, come on." Callie had slipped into the jacket and was flopping her arms around in the loose sleeves. "FBI? Undercover? Secret Service? Pentagon? Who else would wear these duds?" On a whim, she lifted am arm and took a whiff. "Smells like he wore 'em every day, too."

Mother Mary's mouth twisted into a half-smile. "It's very likely that he did, Callie, although it is far less possible that he ever held one of those jobs."

Sensing that Mother Mary was relaxing, Callie went in for the kill. "Then, what was he?" She put on the sunglasses, slipping them down her nose to do a Judge Judy impression. "Judge? Lawyer? Stylist?"

The Reverend Mother had regained her stiff composure and steady glare. "None of those things. He was a musician."

"Named?" Callie reached into the box again.

"If you hadn't tossed his record aside, you'd know."

"Aw…" Callie noted the seventh use of her full name as she blankly thumbed through a stack of photos. "Could you please tell me anyway, Reverend Mother? Just this once? Not like I'll ever have to ask you again."

"His name was Jake." Mother Mary's voice had risen, but remained resolute. "Jake Blues."

Callie scoffed. "Jake Blues?" What kind of a name is that?" She fanned the photos idly in her hand. "Pretty weird if you ask me."

"Not," said Mother Mary, snatching the pictures from her, "if you're in a band called the 'Blues Brothers.'" She slammed the stack down on her desk. "Now I'll thank you to take this a bit more seriously, young lady, or we'll have to withhold the information completely. Are we clear?"

Callie nodded numbly. If Mother Mary hadn't taken the photos from her at the moment she did, they'd have been scattered all over the office floor. Her father was a Blues Brother? The Blues Brothers were stuff of legend at St. Helens. The two boys themselves had grown up there, and since then gone on to protect it throughout their wild gigs and escapades. The Blues Brothers were also the working theory behind a long-standing missing child case and the sole reason for the banning of R+B at the orphanage.

"Good." Mother Mary got right back to business. "Your father, as you may realize now, was a man of inversely proportional wit and action. This box was put aside to go to his 'next of kin,' which he assumed would be his brother, in the event of his death. However, at that time, he had no idea that you were on the way. Luckily, one of your mother's last schemes before her…unfortunate demise was to route all of his and her surviving 'fortunes' as it were, to you." She settled back in her chair, all the while keeping posture. "And here we are."

"But wait…" Callie protested, her tone still numb, "How did my mom and dad meet? I mean, do you know how?"

"Regretfully in your case, no." The Reverend Mother leaned forward to see into the box. "We could only guess from the condition of your birth certificate that your birth and the arrangements afterward were a hasty affair. It's very likely that your father was jailed or intoxicated or both when you were named."

"Hey, back off…" said Callie, stung. "He was my dad, Reverend Mother." She looked down at the box, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Under the photos she'd removed was a folded piece of paper. She slowly took it and opened it.

"That would be the one." Mother Mary sighed. "Given your mother's background, they both decided the prison collection box would be the most secure place to keep it." She paused. "Your mother's family had ties with the mob."

"I figured." Callie fingered the ratty edges of the old paper. Her birth certificate.

"**June 15****th**", it read, "**1994**. **Father: Jake Blues**. **Mother: Carrie Danska Fischer**."

Danska. She almost laughed. _"Bet the Russian mob's tougher than the Italian."_ The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she stayed silent. Besides, the joke really wasn't that funny anyway.

'Here's one of your mother and father." Mother Mary had spread out some of the photos, and was pointing to one on Callie's left. "Just about the only one. Most of them are of Jake and Elwood."

"Who?"

"Elwood. Your father's brother. I was certain you knew that."

Callie blinked, putting down the paper. "Right." Of course. How dumb could she be? Blues Brothers. Implying more than one. She shook her head, trying to concentrate on the candid of her mom and dad. One thing the Reverend Mother was right about, he sure must've been drunk. She smiled wryly at it before her eyes drifted to the other stills. The differences between these and the first one she'd seen were definite: in these, her father was alive. In one, he had his mouth wide open, as if he were about to eat the microphone in front of it. Callie stifled a giggle. In a few others, her dad and Elwood were onstage doing some sort of crazy dance. In one near the bottom right, they were just standing together stone-faced in front of a car. Callie squinted. "Reverend Mother, is that a cop car?"

"Oh, yes indeed." Mother Mary didn't even look. "Of course, they started out with a Cadillac, but you know how things go."

Callie frowned. "I'm not sure I do, Reverend Mother."

Mother Mary sighed again, sounding tired. "I don't expect you ever will, Calloway. Nor will I, for that matter. Things like that mostly came down to your Uncle Elwood's being an odd bird."

Callie frowned. "What?"

"I expect you never will understand-" Mother Mary began to repeat.

Callie shook her head. "No, not that." She thought hard for a moment, and then snatched her birth certificate back up. Mother Mary said the arrangements after her birth were hasty, so…yes! She flipped to the back to find a printed custody release form. At first glance, the whole of her infant existence seemed to be put in order, signed, sealed, and shipped off to St. Helens. Callie's heart began to sink. She had thought, just maybe, that- there. There it was, right in plain sight. Under the ink and spidery penmanship (obviously her mother's) on the form were eraser marks, particularly around the blank marked "**New Guardian**." Before her mother had shipped her off, her father had written a name. Erased, but the smudgy letters were still readable and clear as day.

**Elwood J. Blues**

"Reverend Mother," said Callie, slowly, "why didn't you give me to my Uncle Elwood?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why didn't you give me to my Uncle Elwood?" Callie repeated, feeling her voice rise.

"I don't know what you mean." The tone of Mother Mary's voice wasn't threatening, but Callie knew it wasn't truthful either.

"He wrote his name on the form." Callie's heart was beating fast. "My dad. He wrote Elwood's name on the form where it says 'new guardian.'" She put the certificate in front of Mother Mary, pointing to the line. "Right there."

The Reverend Mother straightened her glasses, then looked where Callie was pointing. She shook her head. "There's nothing there, Calloway."

"Yes there is!" Callie protested. "It's right there. Someone tried to erase it, but it's still there. Elwood J. Blues."

"But it was erased, Calloway," Mother Mary said firmly. "And there's nothing you can do about it."

"Well, look at it! There was obviously some conflict going on between good old mom and dad…" Callie began to flounder. "My dad wrote for me to go to his brother, my mom didn't think that was such a good idea, so she wrote over it. So I ended up here by mistake, see?"

"Your coming here was no mistake, Callie," said Mother Mary.

"And how do you know that?" Callie fired back.

"Because your mother didn't do the writing on that release. I did."

Callie's jaw dropped. She sat back heavily in her own chair. She stared at Mother Mary for a long time, and then finally asked the only question she could think of.

"Why?"

"Because it was best for you." She leveled her gaze with Callie, and then explained.

"Yes, Jake did write on your custody agreement that you were to go to Elwood. In his intoxicated stupor, bless his poor soul, he contacted me to make sure it happened. So of course, I had to go to him and make sure you weren't in danger. Your mother, naturally, would have been a help in the matter, but by then she had already disappeared. I suspect foul play was afoot in that back-lot hospital you were born in." Mother Mary shook her head. "But anyhow Calloway, I told your father I would help him get your papers in order."

"You lied to him," Callie said in a small, shocked voice.

"Yes, I did." The Reverend Mother had taken the defensive. "I had to, Callie. When you were born, your father had just been released to indefinite parole. Since your mother's disappearance, Elwood was the only family he had left. I had to remind your father that his brother was still in jail. I told him I would sign myself over as your guardian until such time as Elwood was released, and he agreed. Two weeks later, he died." Mother Mary's expression was still hard, but her eyes had changed. "He never knew I signed in ink. And with that turn of events, I never had to give you over."

Callie sighed shakily, taking it all in. "So…has he ever asked about me?"

"Has who ever asked about you?"

She frowned. "Uncle Elwood."

Mother Mary frowned too, but then chortled. "Not that I'm aware of, dear."

Callie's eyes widened. "He's not dead too, is he?"

Mother Mary sniffed. "Don't be silly. He's most likely rotting in some jail cell, or still playing that ridiculous music and dodging the police like he and your father used to do. The hooligans."

Callie bit back the smile of defiant pride playing at her lips. Best. Family. Ever.

"And it's also unlikely that you ever will hear from him," the Reverend Mother concluded. "I've seen to that. So if you please, please gather up your box. You may return to your room."

Callie stayed where she was. "That's not fair."

Mother Mary sighed, exasperated. "Calloway, you're putting far too much emphasis on this."  
>"<span>I<span> don't think I am,' Callie snapped.

"I beg your pardon, young lady." Mother Mary had her hand on the pointer, but Callie didn't care.

"All these years, you've lied to me. Hid things from me. Made me think I had no family, that no-one wanted me. Now I find out someone did, and you just laugh and take it away."

"I'm not laughing, Calloway." Mother Mary stood up, her presence all of a sudden foreboding. "Nor should you be. Yes, it's true your circumstances were and are less than favorable but everything that was done was done with your future in mind, young lady. So I'll thank you from now on to be respectful and aware of those who try and help you."

"Yes, Reverend Mother." Callie gathered the suit into the box, followed by the stack of photos. She hesitated on the last one: the shot of her dad and uncle in front of the car.

"He's out there somewhere," Callie said. "I'll find him."

Mother Mary shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid that's not possible, Callie. And even if it were, you'd be setting yourself up for disappointment."

"Why?" Callie asked sharply.

"Your Uncle Elwood doesn't know you exist." Mother Mary patted Callie on the back. "And believe me, it's better for all of us this way."


	2. My name is Callie C Blues

"Are you serious?"

"I told you, she's psycho."

" 'Doesn't know you exist and it's better that way'? Who says that to a kid?"

"The penguin, apparently."

The two girls shared a small laugh at Mother Mary's nickname. Callie peeked over the thin privacy screen between the two beds. "Hey Lor, could'ja throw be a belt?"

Lazily, her friend shifted from her horizontal position and opened Callie's bureau. "What color?"

"Black."

"Black it is, _sensei_," Lorna said, draping it over the divide. "So tell me, why are you doing this, again?"

"Just to see. I mean, it's not every day that someone here finds out about their parents, let alone get something that belonged to them."

"Yeah, but do you really have to try on your dad's _clothes_? Come on Callie, that's weird."

"Why?" Lorna watched the belt disappear. "I don't think it's weird."

Lorna snorted. "The person doing something weird never does. And that's a good question. I should probably be asking _you _that."

"What question?"

"Why, dummy!" Lorna sat back down on the edge of her bed. "Because I don't think wearing a dead man's suit and tie is going to give you closure."

Callie muttered a few unrelated curses before quipping, " 'specially since it looks like he was plus-sized. Hey Lorna, I think both of us could fit in these pants."

"Try the belt."

"Way ahead of you."

"And besides," Lorna continued, "that kind of shit only works in movies."

Callie sauntered out from behind the screen. "Well, I'm not sure about _closure_ anymore, but I'm thinkin' I look pretty good right now."

Lorna began to giggle. "Oh my god, Callie…"

"What?"

Still giggling, Lorna dragged her friend over to the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. "Read 'em and weep, hon."

Callie frowned at her reflection. She didn't think she looked _that_ bad: granted, the huge pants belted to her tiny waist was sort of laughable, not to mention the size of the rest of the outfit, but she liked it. It was…well…she didn't know what it was, but she liked it.

"What's wrong with it?" Callie asked Lorna finally.

Lorna caught her breath. "You look like either a really small boy or a really confused girl."

Callie pouted. "I thought it looked more Hugo Boss."

"Yeah, maybe his gay cousin."

"That's mean." Callie wandered back over to her bed and sank down on it, pulling the shoebox toward her.

"You're lucky," Lorna said wistfully, lounging beside her. "You got a whole box."

"So what?" said Callie, gingerly removing the lid and taking out the hat and sunglasses. "All it is is stuff." She looked back at Lorna. "I wish I got a letter like you."

Lorna had been given the proof of her parents' existence the year before, when she herself had turned 17. Her birthday surprise had not come in a shoebox. Lorna's yield was a single, yellowed business envelope that smelled like, she decreed, Chanel No. 3 and crack. From said letter, Lorna had learned first and foremost that her last name was Whitesnake, and that her mom and dad were addicted to pure crystal meth and cocaine respectively. She also learned that they were Grateful Deadheads, and 'by blood' apparently so was she. And someday, said the letter, they hoped the powers of the universe would bring them together again, because God knew they didn't want to leave her in that orphanage, but duty called.

"What?" Lorna raised her eyebrows. "Callie, that letter ruined my life."

"But one of them actually wrote it," Callie pointed out. "I get the feeling mom and dad weren't much for sentiments."

"Callie, come on. You got pictures. Tons of 'em." Lorna reached in and grabbed one of the stacks. "I wish my folks had…whoa. Did you know your dad was one of the-?"

"Just found out today." Callie rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "My dad was Joliet Jake. How's that for weird?"

"Well, I'll tell you what I think." Lorna gave a cat-like grin. "Your Uncle Elwood was a hottie."

"Ew, Lorna!" Callie put her face in her hands, shaking her head. "Why'd you have to go there?"

"Well he was, I'm not gonna lie."

"Eeeeeeew…" Callie groaned, flopping on her back.

Lorna looked down at her, almost laughing. "Jeez Callie, not like we'd do anything in front of you."

Callie dropped her arms. "Shut up, Lorna."

Lorna cackled with delight, sounding like a TV blonde. "You should've seen yourself!"

"Yeah, well, you should've heard yourself." Callie sat back up. "Seriously Lorn, what is it with you and older men?"

Lorna shrugged. "What can I say? They know more."

Callie rolled her eyes again. "You're disgusting."

"Not disgusting, just painfully honest." Lorna clasped her hands, looking at Callie with sarcastic earnest. "one day, I hope to present my theory to a board of scientists who will give me funding to begin my experiments!"

"Psh." Callie fingered the brim of the black fedora in her lap. "As long as I'm not your data specialist."

Lorna repeated her casual shrug. "You never know." She flipped over the top photo. "Oooh, vintage strip club."

"Ha."

"No, I'm serious. There's some random-ass strip joint in this picture. Look."

"Gimme that." Callie took the photo from Lorna and examined it. "Hm. Looks like it. Only…" She hesitated, turning it over. "Aha! 'Jake and Elwood's cheap motel, pre-blast.'" Callie frowned. "Pre-blast?"

Lorna took the picture back, squinting at it. She slapped her forehead finally, in realization. "Of course. It's the _bad_ neighborhood. You know, the place the Penguin never takes us on our field trips or city walks?" She looked from side to side, then leaned closer to Callie. "I heard one night there was this huge shooting, some hit and run, you know? Shattered the door, lights and the whole front half of the motel."

"Huh," Callie said, still frowning. "That's weird."

Lorna grinned, shaking her head. "It's amazing how un-excited you are about all of this."

Callie grimaced, reaching into the box again. "What makes you think I'm un-excited?" She pulled out a neatly typewritten half-sheet. "Hey look, my mom's marksmanship records." She nodded thoughtfully. "Five hits, two fatalities. Here in America she'd be a dangerous felon, but in 'home country'…" she pronounced the last two words in what she hoped was an eastern European accent, "clean as a whistle." She pondered a moment more. "I bet she's the one who shot up the motel, being as she had three non-fatalities and all." She nodded again. "Cool."

"You call that excitement?" Lorna said, almost challenging. "Kid, if I got whole box of stuff on my folks, I would be in fuckin' tornado mode."

"Ooooooo," Callie teased. "You swore! I'm gonna tell Mother Mary."

Lorna rolled her eyes. "No you won't."

Callie smiled craftily, lifting up another layer of papers from the box. "What if I did?"

"You wouldn't," Lorna said simply. "Especially since I heard you were either stupid or ballsy enough to say 'shit' right to her face."

"Accident.'

"Whatever, Callie."

"Whatever, Lorn," Callie returned, completing their agreement to disagree. She thumbed through the stack she'd lifted. Mostly photos again, some more typeset papers, and a folded, grease-spotted sheet of looseleaf.

"What-?" she murmured, pulling it out. It didn't look old perse, but more well-preserved, like it had only been handled once or twice in its existence. She unfolded it slowly, not knowing exactly what to expect. Delicately, she smoothed out the creases and looked at it. Her eyes widened so much she could almost feel her pupils dilate.

"Lorna?" she said in a small voice. "Can you come over here a sec?"

"What's up, kid?" She walked back over to Callie from the far corner of the room she'd idly migrated to.

"Do you know what this is?" Callie asked in the same tone she'd used before.

"A letter from your mother stating some wacky conspiracy that she's still alive?"

Usually a comment like this would have snapped Callie out of her state of shock, but this time it didn't. Lorna began to worry. "Okay, Callie? You know I'm terrible at guessing games. You're gonna have to tell me."

Callie held the paper blindly in front of her. "Look."

Doubtfully, Lorna took it from her. "If you say so." She paused, giving it a perfunctory glance-over. "Care to explain the significance of the random lyrics to Soul Man?"

"Idiot!" Callie sat up on her knees. "How do you not understand why that's significant?"

"Oh, wait." Lorna looked at the shoebox. "That's their song, isn't it?"

"Maybe."

Lorna nodded to herself. "It is. Like that one day at lunch when Sister Ruth was supervising and someone turned on the blues music…"

"That was me."

"Oh yeah, duh!" Lorna chuckled. "It was just a long time ago."

"One year." Callie had gone back to being morose.

"Whatever. Wasn't Soul Man your favorite song?"

"Still is."

"Yeah, and that was the one that got the Penguin down there in a flash. Remember? Sister Ruth almost got let go."

"I remember."

Lorna half-smiled. "It's sad what passes for badass around here."

Callie pointed her finger. "You swore again!"

Lorna made a face. "Shut up, Callie." She looked back down at the paper. "So you think this is… you know, legit?"

"It should be." Callie suddenly looked conflicted. "Why shouldn't it be?"

Lorna shrugged. "I don't know, just asking. Maybe it's a forgery."

Callie snorted. "Come on Lorn, it's not like this is the Mona Lisa." She was still for a moment, and then snatched the paper back. After a moment, she let out a long sigh.

"What?" Lorna asked.

"It's not."

"Not what?"

"A forgery."

"And how do you know that?"

"I just do."

Lorna gave a tired groan. "Here we go again."

Callie looked up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I know how you get about these things."

Now it was Callie's turn to feel worry for her friend. "Lorna? Are you…concerned?"

Lorna laughed. "You kidding? All those times you wanted to storm the offices for your files, I was the one saying go for it. I'm saying be careful."

"Careful. Right." Callie went back to examining the paper. "Birth certificate…" she murmured, fishing it out. "Handwriting check," she clarified in a louder voice.

"Uh huh," Lorna walked back to her own corner and opened a dresser drawer. "You find any subliminal messages, let me know."

There was another silence, and then Callie's giggles started.

"What now?" said Lorna.

"Come here."

"No, just tell me."

"My dad didn't write it."

"Why is that funny?"

"Uncle Elwood messed up and my dad spell-checked him."

"Really? That's adorable." Lorna peeked around the divide edge. "Only what's there to mess up in Soul Man?"

"You know the part where it says, 'I was educated, from good stock'?"

"I thought it was 'I was educated, at Woodstock.'"

"Whatever. I guess he combined the two or something. Anyway, he wrote 'at Goodstock', and on the side, my dad wrote, 'What's Goodstock? Woodstock with more orgys?'"

"Ha!" Lorna walked back around. "I guess now you know where you get your sense of humor."

"I do, don't I?" Callie had once again taken on a look and voice of awe. "Things are finally making sense!"

Lorna rolled her eyes. "Okay then…"

Callie stood up on the bed. "I AM CALLIE C. BLUES!'

"I know you are…" Lorna looked up at her, grimacing. "You should probably get down now."

Callie sat down hard, bouncing the mattress. "I have living family!"

"Yes you do," her friend agreed. "And you're acting really weird. You should stop."

Callie ignored her. "AND THIS PAPER!" She held up the handwritten lyrics with both hands. "I LOVE THIS PAPER!"

"Okay kid, if you're shitting me right now, stop. Seriously."

"Sorry, Lorna." Callie sat down, still holding the paper to her face. "My life is, like, amazing right now."

"Whatevs." Lorna idly gnawed on the Luna bar she'd retrieved earlier. "And BTdubs, that paper smells like ass."

There was a rattling sound as Callie sniffed it. "That's not ass."

"And how would you know?"

"Shut up." Callie sniffed again. "Lorn, this smells like fried chicken."

Lorna raised a shoulder in nonchalance. "So I was a little off. Big whoop. Maybe it was a chicken's ass." She looked over at Callie. "Don't have a seizure."

"This paper smells like my favorite food in the whole world!" She slowly eased herself to horizontal and let her arms drop, the sheet still atop he face. "My life is even more amazing."

"Yeah, well forgive me if processed meat makes me nauseous," Lorna sniped. "And aren't you forgetting something?"

"And what would that be?"

Lorna cleared her throat. "You know that thing you were planning to do? That mission?" Does finding your only living family member ring a bell?"

"Shit." Callie pushed the paper down from her face. "Why do things always seem easier before we've thought about them?"

Lorna raised her eyebrows. "Don't tell me you're backing out already."

"Of course I'm not backing out." Callie gave the ceiling a good hard stare. "Lorna, do you think I'd back out after all this time? After I've gone without knowing my real family for my whole life, and then nearly everything I've been missing is just handed to me?"

"You're right, that would be stupid." Lorna stood and stretched, now standing over Callie. She looked down once more on the poultry-odored paper. "Hey…what's that written below all the lyrics and stuff?"

"Your mom."

"First of all Callie, that's only an insult to people who actually give a fuck about their moms. Second of all, unlike you, I don't enjoy shitting my friends. You need to turn that paper over."

"Wow, if you keep that swearing up, Mother Mary's gonna hear you on her own." Callie stiffened as Lorna frustratedly flipped the paper over and put it back on her face. "And just so you know, that was completely un- oh look, there is something there."

"Told you."

"it's a phone number. Should I call it?"

"Whose?"

"I don't know. Should I call it anyway?"

"Totally," Lorna answered, "but you should probably change out of the man getup first."

"Right," Callie agreed quickly. "Yeah." She skittered behind the divide. "This was starting to feel awkward, anyway."

"No kidding." Lorna paused, biting her lip. "Callie, you do realize this may not work out, right?"

"What do you mean?" Callie's dresser creaked with age as she opened a drawer. "If you mean the number, the worst whoever's on the other end can do is hang up." There was a brief pause as she flopped the suit over the top of the separator. "And of you mean the whole thing in general, I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say you were," Lorna said patiently. "I just thought I'd remind you that Saint Helen of the Blessed Shroud Orphanage is closer to a dry run for real life than they tell us."

"Right Lorn." Callie's fingertips appeared as she wiggled into her t-shirt. "And how exactly would you know that?"

Lorna grimaced. "I got returned, remember?"

"They were dicks."

"Yeah, I know you know that, but the Penguin didn't."

Callie emerged, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her favorite jeans. "The Penguin is an old lady. People can do all that churchy, god-loving stuff to her face and she'll think they're great parents. Doesn't even take the time to find out the important stuff. Where they work, where they live, do they already have children, do they have pets…?"

"Are they capable of human emotion?" Lorna muttered. "Can they understand the phrase, 'Your dog always tries to bite me'?"

"Do they have a stereo?" Callie interjected lightly, trying to pull the subject back out of Lorna's dark past. "Can they properly cook a box of mac'n'cheese?" She bounced on the bed. "Do they know who Gerard Way is?"

Lorna smiled. "Those would be my kind of folks." She paused for a minute, considering. "Although if they were still alive, which mine are probably but whatever, yours wouldn't be too bad either. I mean, a musician and a professionally-trained shooter? Pretty chill."

"Yeah, well, too bad. They're mine." Callie crossed her legs, putting one hand protectively on her shoebox and reaching the other one towards Lorna. "Phone?"

Lorna handed over the cell from the bedside table. "You think it's his?"

Callie rolled her eyes. "Unlikely." She dialed. "That would be too easy." She held the phone to her ear, referencing the sheets. 'The number's accompanying instructions clearly state: Elwood- call this number if you step in it."

Lorna's face twisted quizzically. "Step in what, exactly?"

"What else?" said Callie, as the phone began to ring. "Shit Creek."

The phone rang a second, then a third time. Callie's stomach turned and her hands began to sweat, making her friend's beloved android slippery to the touch. Finally, there was the gentle click of a receiver being lifted on the other side.

"Hello…"

"Hi!" Callie blurted. "My name is Callie, and I-"

"Thank you for contacting the offices of Sline and Associates. Your call is very important to us. Please hold while we redirect your call."

"I hate answering machines," Callie grumbled, slumping in her sitting position.

Lorna grimaced and shook her head, getting up once more. "Elevator music?"

"Yeah," Callie drawled. "Getting' some Celine Dion up in here."

"My heart will go on!" Lorna sang, striking a pose in the middle of the floor.

Callie giggled. "Stop it Lorna, I'm being serious here!"

Lorna paid her no mind. "Near, far, wherever you are, I believe that the heart does go on…" she sang, adding more movements to her routine. She looked at her friend jokingly. "Shut up Callie, I'm showing you through interpretive dance how Celine Dion applies to your life."

Callie pressed her lips shut, trying not to smile. "Lorn, I swear, if you don't stop that I'll-"

"Hello, this is general information."

The voice through the earpiece jolted Callie to attention. "Uh, hello? This is a real person, right?"

"Yes it is." The voice sounded like a woman's somewhere around middle-aged. Good, Callie thought. Too old to laugh, and too young to be patronizing. She gulped. "And this is still…uh…Sline and Associates or whatever, right?"

"Yes…" the voice faltered, sounding suspicious. "Is there a specific reason you called?"

"Uh yes…I think." Callie was mentally kicking herself. "Could I speak to the main guy?"

"Do you mean Mr. Sline?" the voice asked, retaining the suspicion.

"Yes." Callie nodded, reassuring herself. "I need to speak to Mr. Sline."

"Honey, forgive me for asking, but how old are you?"

She sighed. Here it was. The end. Game over. "Seventeen."

There was laughter on the other end. Callie grimaced.

"I thought you sounded young!" The voice was brighter from the laughing. "I'm not sure how long it's been since someone called here for Maury."

"Why not?"

The lady cleared her throat. "Dear, I'm not sure if you're aware, but Mr. Sline has been practicing law here from these very offices since before you were born."

"Lawyer," Callie muttered.

Lorna looked over. "Hm?"

Callie pointed to the phone. "Lawyer," she said.

Lorna frowned. "No Cal, that's a phone."

"Ha ha."

Lorna took another bite of her Luna bar. "Put it on speaker."

Callie made a face. "Why?"

Lorna made a face back. "Just do it."

Callie shrugged, pushing a button and laying it in front of her. Lorna sat cross-legged against the backboard and listened.

"In fact," the voice continued, "he just hit the tenth anniversary of his supposed retirement."

Callie restlessly scratched an itch. "Supposed?"

"Oh yes." The receptionist had clearly forgotten who she was speaking to. "And he would have, if it weren't for that 'client' of his."

"What client?" Callie shot her friend a confused glance. Lorna shrugged helplessly.

"Well you see, old Maury was apparently doing some under-the-table negotiations around then for some gentlemen in show business. Agenting of some sort."

"Bookie," Lorna murmured. Callie nodded pensively.

"Well the point is, that business got him so worked up about 'going straight' that he's refused to leave his legal work for those ten years since."

"Double meaning," Callie said, louder than she'd intended.

"Quite," the lady answered in a much crisper tone. "And so I'm afraid I can't forward your call at this time."

"What?" Callie and Lorna loudly chorused.

"Dear, I'm sure I have no idea why you called our offices," the lady began, "but I'm sure whatever help you think you need, you can get it somewhere else."

"Thing is, I can't." Callie wrung her hands as they began to sweat again. "I can't explain, but I really really need to speak to Mr. Sline. Please."

"Do your parents know you're calling?"

Callie's stomach turned again at the jab, and she could feel her jaw set in a scowl. "No, ma'am."

"I thought so. Now what would they say if-"

"Please." Callie repeated her last word, knowing it was her last shot. "Please. I don't care if you have to put me on hold again or anything, just…please."

The lady sighed. "All right." There was a rustling sound. "He's busy at the moment, but I'll take down your number and have him reach you."

Callie let out a breath. "Thank you, thank you so-"

"Number, please."

"Uh…" Callie looked at Lorna, who had already written the digits on a scrap of notebook paper and was holding it up. "567-6225," she read.

"And your name?"

"Calloway Blues."

There was a long pause on the other end. Callie and Lorna looked at eachother.

"What did I say?" Callie whispered.

"Beats me," Lorna whispered back.

"Hello?" Callie said, leaning closer to the phone.

"I'm sorry…" The voice on the other end sounded less professional now, almost flustered. "Did you say your last name was Blues?"

"Yes…?" Callie looked confusedly down at the phone.

The receptionist cleared her throat. "Well, it looks like you'll get to talk to him after all." She cleared her throat a second time. "Please hold."

"Thank you…" Callie said, her words echoing into the recently ensuing silence.

"Huh," said Lorna, after a minute. "I guess you're gonna get lucky after all."

"So it would seem." Callie dug her hands into her jeans pockets.

"A bookie…" Lorna mused aloud

Callie half-smiled. "And for a minute there, I was thinking someone in my family was responsible."

"Surprise, surprise," Lorna quipped.

"But what would a bookie know about their clients?" said Callie. "I mean, really know."

"Anything and everything," Lorna answered without hesitation. "It's got nothing to do with the cashflow and everything to do with the level of trust." She met Callie's wary glance. "And no, this is not my personal experience." She chuckled. "I get everything from pirated movies, you know that."

Callie sighed. "But seriously-"

"**Who is this?**"

The sudden voice in the phone surprised both girls from their conversation. They looked uneasily at eachother for a moment, and Callie started to answer. "Hello, Mr. Sline? My name is-"

"**I don't care what you say your name is! I don't care who you ****are**** or ****what**** your pathetic little cover story is! I ****know**** one of them put you up to this. So tell me, 'Calloway Blues,' what does the infamous show band want from me now?**"


	3. Tiny, convoluted, and near nonexistent

Callie blinked. "What?"

"**Don't pretend you don't know**." The man's voice was professional, but still sounded crazed, even a bit frightened to the ears of the two girls. "**No one who calls themselves 'Blues' calls me by accident. So how'd they find you, huh? Pick you off some street corner? You a stowaway? Or did they steal you from the orphanage like that other kid?**"

"Buster!" Callie blurted out the name of the disappearance case, then quickly covered her mouth.

"**Yeah, that's the one. But quit stalling, kid. What do you want from me?**"

Callie gulped. She gave Lorna an apologetic look, and then took the phone off speaker and held it to her ear. "Information."

There was harsh laughter. "**Likely story. Who put you up to this, pal? It was Mac, wasn't it? Hot-shot got it into his head since he owned his own titty bar he could manage the shebang better than me. Elwood never would'a stuck you with this. ****He'd**** man up. And you wouldn't have had to take some fake name.**"

"It's not fake." Callie rolled back her shoulders. "Honorary, but not fake."

"**Honorary, whatever you want to call it. You're not flesh and blood kin of someone who took the last name, so it's still not yours hon, and it's still fake.**"

"Fake or not, you can't tell me it's not mine." Callie steeled herself. "My dad gave it to me."

More laughter. "**You can't begin to tell me Elwood's your father.**"

"He's not."

"**Well, thank ****God****-**"

"Jake was." Callie smirked at the long silence her bombshell had created. "I'm telling the truth, Mr. Sline. Check your records."

"**Calloway, I'm sure you've made a mistake.**" Maury Sline's voice was different: hoarse and jittery, scared. "**Jake Blues is dead. He's been dead for-**"

"Seventeen years." Callie idly took the hat from her lap and perched it atop her head. "Today's my birthday, Mr. Sline. Do you know how old I am?"

"**Young lady, this is serious.**" They bookie-lawyer was trying to re-assert dominance, but the attempt was shaping up to be futile. "**If you're asserting a false identity to me, I can have you charged. Doesn't matter how many fraud charges Mister Jake Blues dodged, I ****will**** press charges.**"

"Press all you want, Maury," Callie heard herself saying, "but the competent public defender I'll end up with is sure to point out that you're the one who initiated most of the paths leading to those charges." She cleared her throat. "After all, you were dealing with known criminals."

"**How did you get this number?**" he shouted, losing yet more control of the situation.

"It was left for me."

"**Like hell it was.**"

'You're right," Callie relented. "He left it for Elwood in a box of his stuff, which was supposed to go to him or Dad's next of kin, which actually turned out to be me." Callie unfolded the arms of the dark sunglasses and put them on. "My name is Calloway Curtis. Check the public records Mr. Sline, it's not a common name."

"**Young lady-**"

"Check your records." Callie gulped again quietly, glancing at Lorna. Lorna stared back at her in silence, eyes suddenly wide.

"What?" Callie whispered, putting a hand over the mouthpiece. Lorna pointed to the mirror, motioning her friend to follow.

"What are we doing?" Callie hissed, stepping in front of the glass in front of Lorna.

"Look in the mirror."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Callie obeyed, feeling slight nerves at her friend's awed tone. "Okay, now what?"

"Blank your face." Callie obeyed. "Now tip your head to the side…other side…good."

"Is there a point to this?" Callie muttered.

"Right here." Lorna held up a photo from the box. "It's a match."

"What are you talking about?" Callie snatched it back with her free hand. It was one of Elwood and her dad sharing a microphone under stage lights. She squinted, not catching the meaning.

Lorna enlightened her. "You're not blood-related or anything, but grow a foot or so and with the getup, you're a dead ringer for your fake uncle."

Behind the shades, Callie rolled her eyes. "You're full of it."

"I'm serious!"

"Seriously full of it."

Lorna sat back down on the bed. "I think it's a sign, you know? That the world isn't pulling a fast one on you."

Callie looked at her dubiously. "A minute ago, you said I looked 'confused'."

"Like a confused girl," Lorna corrected. "I changed my mind."

Callie made a face. "Well thanks…"

"No problem." Lorna sighed, and it was quiet for a minute or two. Callie's ears rang, contrasting the room's silence and the static of the unofficial hold on the other end of the phone.

Lorna suddenly looked up again. "Hey, do you remember anything about when we were really little?"

Callie frowned. "How little?"

"Like, three."

"Hmm." Callie considered. "A powder-blue daycare room with a bunch of cribs and a fuzzy carpet. Gray." She looked at Lorna. "The carpet was gray, right?"

"I can't remember," said Lorna. "When you were three, I was four, so they moved me up with the older kids." She looked harder at Callie. "Do you remember that day when the sisters were trying to keep us locked in?"

"Yeah!" Callie exclaimed. "I remember it was sunny and I wanted to go outside, but Mother Mary kept putting me back. I was so mad." She blinked, something hitting her. "Wait, did something happen?" Did something happen that I couldn't see?"

Lorna shrugged. "Maybe."

"That means yes!" Callie put the phone down and shook Lorna by the shoulders. "Tell me! Tell me what you know!"

Lorna sighed, trying not to smile. "I don't know. You might hate me."

"I'm a big girl, I can handle it," Callie assured her, not letting go. "And after all, you won't know until you tell me, will you?"

"Fine." Lorna spilled. "That was the day Buster disappeared."

"You're right, I do hate you now." Callie gave Lorna's shoulder a light shove. "But now you have to tell me everything." Callie put the phone on speaker, in case Mr. Sline came back. "Continue."

"There's not much to tell, at least not at the get-go," Lorna admitted. "The sisters corralled us all into our rooms and stood near the doors whispering."

"Yeah, I remember that part."

"But-"

"But?"

Lorna smiled at Callie's naïve excitement. "But after a little while they came in, and Buster left with them."

"Huh." Callie stuffed her hands back in her pockets. "And that's it? Did they say anything?"

Lorna thought. "Yeah…something about…a mentor?"

"Mentor." Callie slowly sat down. "Do you think it was-?"

"Elwood?" her friend asked for her. "Yes."

"But…" Callie frowned, doing her best to think the theory through. "But couldn't it have been someone else? Shouldn't it have been someone else? You know how the Penguin hates everything related to the Blues Brothers."

Lorna looked at her. "That's true, but she wasn't always the Reverend Mother." She rolled her eyes. "Even though it feels like she's been here forever."

Callie kept frowning. "What are you saying?"

"A Reverend Mother usually doesn't quit until she's older than God. I'll bet you anything ours wasn't instated at that point." She sighed, almost laughing as she gave her final hypothesis. "Our Reverend Mother then was probably the same one who raised Jake and Elwood."

Callie's shoulders slumped as she thought it over.

"My brain hurts," she said at last.

Lorna nodded in agreement. "Too much."

"**Hello? Are you still there?**"

The two of them jumped, hearing the voice from the phone. Callie took the phone off speaker and put it to her ear. "Yes."

"**I'm afraid I owe you an apology, er, Calloway. I literally had no idea-**"

"That I existed?" Callie asked dryly. "Yeah, I got that point loud and clear."

"**Look, please don't take offense that wasn't intended.**" Maury Sline had finally given up the tactical offensive and was now even somewhat repentant. "**Your information ****was**** in the system…**" he continued, reading to himself. "**Calloway Curtis Blues, born 15****th ****June 1994 to parents Carrie Fischer and Jake Blues.**" He said the last two words like an afterthought, and then sighed. "**Once again, I apologize. I realize I've grown a bit, shall we say, **_**cynical**_** in my old age. If you still want my help, I'd be happy to do what I can.**"

"Yes, please." Callie's heart started to beat faster. "I wanted to know if-" she stopped, suddenly afraid of the question she wanted to ask.

"**If what?**" Sline asked, filling the awkward silence. "I'm at your disposal now, so don't be shy."

Callie smiled wryly at his newfound friendliness. "If you knew anything _non-business_ about my dad or Elwood."

He chuckled. "**There might be a fun fact or two…anything specific?**"

"Like…a forwarding address."

"**Well, there used to be that apartment on the west side-**"

"And that's gone now," Callie interrupted involuntarily. "What about a forwarding address? If that one of your 'fun facts'?"

There was silence on the other end. "Hello?" Callie said nervously after a moment had passed.

Maury Sline finally spoke. "**Calloway-**"

"Callie."

"**Callie, please tell me you're not thinking of doing what ****I**** think you are.**"

"I can't answer that until I know what you're thinking I'm thinking."

Sline made an exasperated noise. "**Don't play games, young lady. You're thinking of going after Elwood, aren't you?**"

Callie swallowed. "What if I am?"

"**I can tell you right now, you're not going to find anything but trouble.**"

Callie swallowed again. "Exactly what do you mean by 'trouble'?"

"**Callie, if you so much as mention ****either**** your dad's or Elwood's name to the wrong person, you're liable to get your head blown off one way or another.**"

"Isn't that a bit on the dramatic side, Mr. Sline?"

"**Unfortunately, it's not." **There was a rustling of papers.** "Are you familiar with a duo known as The Bluer Two?**"

Callie grimaced. "The tribute-even-though-technically-the-real-band-never-broke-up band? What about them?"

Maury laughed. "**I've never heard it put that way before, but you're right, kid. Anyway, on their little 'tour,' they happened to show their faces in an establishment known as Bob's Country Kitchen.**"

"Oh, boy." Callie let out a nervous laugh. "If it used to be Bob's Country _Bunker_, I can guess how that one went wrong."

"**Right you are, Callie. Bob himself started shooting as soon as the sunglasses lenses came in sight, according to the daily scoop.**" Maury sighed. "**I guess I'm not the only one going senile.**"

Callie cleared her throat. "Mr. Sline, thanks for trying to protect me and warn me off and everything, but if you know where I can find Elwood, I'd like to know." She sighed, looking sideways at Lorna. "Because if you don't tell me, I'm going to have to go out and start looking for information all by myself."

"**Don't you threaten me, Miss Curtis.**" From his voice, Callie could tell he was joking, but only partially. "**I'll admit, I took your call on the assumption that you were already a criminal, but I don't intend on you becoming one under my watch. Even if I ****did**** know where he was, I couldn't and wouldn't tell you.**"

Callie groaned softly. "Why…?"

"Nothing?" Lorna asked.

Callie nodded. "Zip."

Lorna crumpled un the Luna bar wrapper with a thoughtful look on her face. "What about the backup band?"

Callie nervously kept her grip on the phone. "Mr. Sline? What about the backup band?"

"**Beg pardon?**"

"Their band. The people in the background who play the instruments?"

"**Don't get smart.**" He chuckled. "**Though I suppose you got loudmouth from your dad's gene pool.**"

Callie smiled at that. "So, the others. You know anything?"

There was a pause. "**Nothing I can tell you right now.**"

Callie frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"**For our purposes, it means no.**"

"No it doesn't," Callie snapped. "For our purposes, it means yes but you won't tell me!"

"**It ****means**** that it's clear to me that you're at too young of an emotional level to listen to what I have to say.**"

Callie restrained herself from screaming, and used her best fake-calm voice. "I'm sorry. I know you think I'm wasting your time here."

"**No, not at all!**" he said quickly. "**It's just that you're not quite an adult yet, and I don't want you snooping around in places like The Backbeat or The Blue Note.**"

"Lorna!" Callie hissed, covering her end of the receiver. "Pen!" Her friend produced a green marker from under the bed, and Callie neatly wrote the two locations on her forearm. "I understand. Just trying to help me like you used to help dad and uncle Elwood all those years ago."

"**You got it,**" he said.

"_The shmuck_," Callie thought. "Great," she said. "So if I ever get a band together, I'll know who to call?"

"**Yes…**" he hesitated, and then broke into full laughter. "**Yes, I suppose…**"

"Great!" Callie said again. "Thanks for your help, bye!"

"Your nonexistent help, that is," Lorna said, taking back her phone.

"Not completely," Callie corrected, proudly showing her friend the markered notes on her arm.

"That's all though, right?" Lorna asked after a glance.

Callie sighed, deflated. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"Men," Lorna scoffed, standing up and walking to her dresser. "All of 'em jerks, but sooner or later, all women get fooled." With that analysis concluded, she commenced bringing out her suitcase (one of her only real belongings) and loading it from the drawers.

Callie raised an eyebrow. "Lorn, what are you doing?"

"Packing for Brazil."

Callie laughed out loud. "You're kidding, right?"

"We'll see." Lorna began to pound down the pile of clothes with her fist. "I have my birthday the day after tomorrow, remember? And if my deadhead parents left me any funds, I'm using 'em to blow this joint."

"You're leaving me here?" Callie asked, suddenly sounding and feeling sad.

"Hey, it's only the leaving part I'm looking forward to," Lorna said. "Not the leaving you." She thought for a moment, and then gave her clothes pile another punch. "Here, jump in, let me see if the lid will close."

Callie giggled. "You know I'm not that tiny."

"I wish." Lorna sat on the floor next to her open suitcase. "We're sisters, Callie! Not through blood, but were not just 'best friends' like in those girly TV shows."

Callie snorted. "Lorn, nobody is best friends 'like in those girly TV shows'."

"You know what I meant," Lorna muttered, aiming a pointless kick at Callie's foot. "I know how I'd say it if we were secret agents. I'd say-" She cleared her throat importantly. "Agent C, our mission's not over."

"Mission?" Callie mused. "What kind of mission?" She looked at Lorna. "A mission from God?"

Lorna gave a tired grin at the reference. "Sure, whatever."

Callie kept looking at her. "So you think I should do what I said to Mister Sline? Going out on a mission of my own?"

"Heck yes." Lorna pounded the floor, still grinning. "Do it."

"Dodging the cops?"

"Yes."

"Breaking the law?"

"Always."

"Being as badass as I can be at 5'2?"

"You go, girl."

"Lorna?"

Lorna looked back at Callie. "Yeah?"

"Thing is…" Callie trailed off, looking balefully at Lorna. "I can't drive without a legal adult."

Lorna scoffed. "What's the problem with that? Like I said, I'll be eighteen in two days, and that's why I get a crack at my parents' mon-" she stopped, staring back at Callie. "Wait a sec-"

"Come with me," Callie interrupted. "You're going to be a legal adult in two days, so you can be my temporary guardian."

"Callie-"

"Once Mother Mary signs you over into adulthood, you come and get me, and we go. Nobody'll even miss me until that night!"

"Callie-"

"Lorn, you've gotta help me,"Callie pleaded. "You're my best friend, and you know how much this means to me-"

"_Callie!_"

Callie was startled out of her frenetic state. "What is it, Lorn?"

Lorna let out a long, patient breath. "If we're thinking of the same thing here, that of course being your sudden need to escape and inevitably get into all sorts of trouble while tracking down your 'uncle' and the other members of the past Blues Brothers band, I need to know your plan, however tiny, convoluted, or near-nonexistent it may be."

Callie's brow furrowed. "Well…wow." She slumped, looking away. "I never really realized…I don't have the slightest idea what to do."

Lorna looked at her carefully, registering her friend's guilty posture. "No idea, or just none you want to share with me?"

Callie winced. "It'll sound stupid when I say it out loud."

"Callie…" Lorna prodded, "What's your stupid-out-loud-sounding plan?"

Callie shrugged her shoulders and answered in a slurred mumble. "Steal a police car, drive it to the Triple Rock Baptist Church, pray, listen to the chorus, drive someplace else, new clothes, haircuts, whatever, then start looking for the past people." She thrust her written-on arm towards Lorna. "Starting with these places."

"First question: how do we know these places are legit?"

"Sline made a Freudian slip. You never lie when you mention places by accident."

Lorna rolled her eyes. "Well excuse me, Doctor Blues. I forgot you stayed awake for the psych lessons."

Callie smiled. "Oh please, Lorn, you know I only fall asleep during trig."

"Right." Lorna tapped the bedpost ahead of her contemplatively with her foot. "Okay, second question. Do you know where the Triple Rock Church is, and also, why do we have to pray there instead of at the chapel?"

"Because we'll be escaping, and it's the church in closest proximity." Callie shrugged again. "It just feel like it's something we should do."

Lorna nodded. "Fair enough. And question three: what if the policeman whose car we decide to steal is not a complete hairbrain, and doesn't leave his keys in the ignition?"  
>"Oh, that's the fun part." Callie swiveled to face her friend. "You know how to hotwire, right?"<p>

Lorna was silent for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes…yes I do." She looked at Callie's expectant face. "So that's all you've got at the moment?"

Callie nodded guiltily. "More or less."

"Okay then." Lorna folded her hands, considering. "The plan is hasty, incomplete, dangerous, fueled by frenzied, spur-of-the-moment excitement and very unlikely to work. However…" She grinned, sensing Callie's anticipation. "You deemed me enough of a friend to ask for my company, confess this slightly flawed plan to me, and ask for my help in a task that is one of my few unfulfilled ambitions." She faced Callie and put out her hand. "My friend, I believe this is a plan that I can work with."

Callie fervently shook her friend's hand, and then pulled her into a hug. "Thanks Lorn," she said.

"No prob', sis," Lorna answered, pulling away. "But I swear on every sister and the Penguin herself, it you get yourself into any trouble I don't think we can get out of, I am stuffing you in my suitcase and we are going to Brazil."

Callie shrugged. "We'll see."

Lorna made a face. "Yeah, you'll see what a pain it is there when you don't know a lick of Portugese."

Callie got up and headed towards the room door. "Banyo. Adios."

"That's Spanish," Lorna muttered, sitting on her bulging suitcase. She looked at her phone, and saw that it was 4:40 P.M. T-Minus 1 day, 3 hours and 50 minutes until the convoluted, yet slightly epic plan would begin.


	4. The old landmark

"I still don't understand why we had to pick a police car."

"Shut up Lorn, it's a family tradition."

"Yeah, well being as you've only known you had a family for just over 48 hours, I doubt now's the time to play the tradition card."

"Quit complaining and hotwire the darn thing," Callie grumbled.

"Aye aye, Captain," Lorna grumbled back, fishing in her purse for her recently-returned pocketknife.

Callie sat on the curb to wait. So far, she reflected, things had been going about as she had been expecting them to. Lorna had successfully been signed away into adulthood, and flanked by her valise and folded garment bag, she called for her first taxicab. They had planned that Callie would join her at this point, but it wasn't until the summoned cab rounded the corner towards them that she appeared at Lorna's side, her own belongings in hand.

"What took you so long?" Lorna had asked.

"I hate fire escapes," Callie recalled muttering.

She examined the fresh scraped knee she'd acquired from the morning's work. Nothing much, which meant a high likelihood of not being noticed. Then again, what was one scraped knee in the grand scheme of things? As the Penguin would have put it, if this was her worst problem, her life was very good indeed.

"How much longer?" she asked her friend.

"Hold your horses," Lorna answered, brandishing her blade. "I gotta use this baby to unlock the door."

" 'Kay." Callie sighed as she looked ahead once more. She still hadn't fully come to grips with the building that they had their backs to: Joliet Correctional Center. When the cabbie announced their passing it, she barely found her voice in time to tell him to stop. She was still in an uncomfortable daze as Lorna handed the driver his money and towed her out. After that, she'd numbly pointed out the lone police vehicle and sat on the street edge, only speaking when spoken to, excepting her last. As Lorna valiantly wrestled with the knife in the lock, Callie stood up and walked closer to the Center's surrounding fence.

"Finally curious, huh?" Lorna asked, half-distracted.

Callie didn't answer. Slowly, she threaded her fingers through the holes in the wire fencing and leaned her head against it. "He died here Lorn," she murmured.

"Beg pardon?" Lorna made another valiant wrench, producing an audible click.

"My dad. Joliet Jake. He died here," Callie repeated.

"And?"

Callie turned to aim a glare in Lorna's direction. "What do you mean, 'and'?"

Lorna sighed. "Joliet Jake Blues died in the Joliet Correctional Center in the early winter of 1998." She gave the knife in the lock one more shove and turned to look Callie in the eye. "You know that, I know that, nearly everyone who follows and believes in the Blues Brothers' legacy knows that. What's your point?"

Callie sniffed, half in contempt and half genuine. "Jake was my dad and it's upsetting me right now. That's the point." She turned back tot the prison, gripping the wires even more fiercely.

"Geez, sorry," Lorna apologized, taking hold of her pocketknife with both hands. "It's just hard to filter sympathy out of the frustration of picking the lock to this police car…"

"That's okay, Lorn," Callie mumbled. She had stopped fully listening after the first few words. Callie blinked, trying to stop herself from tearing up. "I just can't help wondering what all went on in there." She finally unhooked her fingers and turned to face the street, leaning her back against the fence. "You know…" she said, glancing at Lorna.

"Foul play, you mean?" Lorna gave the blade a final twist in the lock, and then pulled it out. "Less likely than you think."

Callie frowned. "And you know this how?"

Lorna stowed the knife as she turned around. "You wanna overanalyze? Fine. Let's take a look at the facts and statistics of Joliet Jake." She looked inquisitively at Callie. "We can guess from the pictures and pants that your dad was a little over size medium, correct?"

Callie half-smiled at the understatement in spite of herself. "Yeah."

"And we can cite details in most of the 'undercover epics' we heard as kids that would brand him a smoker."

"Chesterfields," Callie confirmed.

"Right, whatever. A fancy smoker." Lorna continued more lightly. "And all that added to our earlier confirmation about the fried chicken, I'd say foul play was not the cause of death."

Callie made an indignant noise. "I wasn't talking about how he di-"

Lorna cut her off. "Callie, the great films of our time have indeed proven to us that the jail and justice systems are not as straight-up as they seem. But in this situation, I doubt bloodshed."

"I meant that I don't know anything about him for myself," Callie finished. "All the stuff anyone knows is legend, and who knows how much of that's real?" She sighed, sliding down the fence and sitting. "I'm sorry, I know you were analyzing something. Finish."

Lorna grimaced. "After that, it's gonna seem too light."

Callie waved it off. "No, cause of death, tell me."

Lorna shrugged. "Well, given that your dad was most likely overweight, smoked like a chimney, and ingested at least as much grease as you do, what cause of death screams out to you?"

Callie rolled her eyes. "Heart attack."

"Statistically the most common cause of death in this fine country," Lorna said with a nod, opening the passenger-side car door. "Satisfied, ma'am?"

"Yeah, whatever," said Callie, walking around to the driver's side. She waited while Lorna loaded her own suitcase and garment bag and unlocked the other doors, and then tossed her own case in the backseat and climbed in behind the wheel. "It's just that the phrase 'smokes like a chimney' sounds really nasty when someone else says it."

"Hey, I call 'em as I see 'em," Lorna said, her head once more down over her purse. "Now hold on and give me room a sec- this is where the fun begins."

"Oh yeah." Callie looked cautiously at her friend. "Yeah, I was gonna ask you why you weren't going for the wires already."

"That is because big sister Lorn has a better plan." Smiling, Lorna pulled out a screwdriver. "Apparently, if you jam one of these babies in the ignition hard enough, the key thing breaks and the car starts in spite of itself."

"That's great, Lorn." Callie glanced nervously past Lorna and out the passenger window. "But if you would hurry up and get that going, I think I see a couple uniforms coming out of the Center."

"Gotcha. If you would just lean over please…"

Callie quickly pressed herself into the left side of the car. "This far enough?"

"Yep." Lorna forcefully gripped the screwdriver. "And now…" She attempted to make a show of jamming the metal end of the tool as hard as she could into the ignition slot. Unfortunately, that first attempt made it clear that they weren't destined to be moving very far in the near future.

"Too big," Lorna said in hollow disappointment.

"What do you mean, 'too big'?" Callie gripped the edge of the driver's seat with both hands. "You mean this is it?"

"Of course I don't mean this is it." Lorna put the screwdriver back in her purse. "Get at that panel under the steering section and open it up for me. We've still got time to do it the old-fashioned way."

"Finally." Callie opened her door and got onto her knees just outside the car. "I think I can see it." She looked at Lorna. "We still clear?"

Lorna glanced out the window to her right. "I think so, at least for now. I see those two uniforms you were talking about—looks like they've been standing and talking all this time." She glanced away for a moment to check Callie's progress, and then looked back. "Uh oh."

Callie stopped what she was doing and the panel made an auspicious clunk as it fell open. "What?"

"I think they saw me in the window. They're coming over here."

"Yeah, either you or the driver's door randomly hanging open. Shit." Callie scrambled in and closed and locked the door. "What now?"

Lorna sighed. "Close up that panel and get down as low as you can under the dash."

Callie looked at her friend, shocked. "You're gonna take the fall for this? But you didn't even want to come!"

Lorna ignored her. "People hide things in glove boxes, right?" She squeezed the latch, opening the compartment in front of her.

"Lorn," Callie stage-whispered, "the guards are coming through the fence gate. What are you doing?"

"Being extremely lucky," Lorna answered, strangely calm as she closed the gray glove box. "And keep down. Until I tell you."

Callie didn't have time to ask when that might be, because at that moment, there was a knock on the passenger window. Lorna rolled it down. "Hallo, offitsearen?"

"Miss?" a deep voice addressed her. "Do you have any idea where you are?"

"Hile, offitsear!" Lorna continued. "Ick comme ous dee Germany hoy-te, oond Ick fynde dees Auto gross gross cool."

Callie bit her lower lip from her uncomfortable under-the-dash position. Leave it to Lorna to whip out the drunk German impression. She shifted her eyes to the right. It didn't look like her friend was liable to crack at any moment, like she was every other time she'd employed that coverup, but it also didn't appear that the officer was buying it.

"Miss," he repeated, "please exit the car."

"Nine!" said Lorna. "Dahs eest mine Auto."

"Lorna…" Callie whispered, "it's okay. Do what he says, and I'll go back to Saint Helen's."

"Not on your life," Lorna hissed. "I know what I'm doing."

A chuckle escaped the guard outside her window. "I knew that foreigner act was phony." The officer gave Lorna a strange look, and then a realization appeared to take place. "Hey, wait a minute-" He beckoned his partner. "I think we've got the one the old ladies're looking for."

"We're screwed," Callie mumbled.

"Like hell we are," Lorna mumbled back, slipping something small into her friend's hand.

The second officer looked at Lorna. "Well, she's in the school uniform, so it's highly probable."

The first guard smirked, also looking back at her. "Your name wouldn't happen to be Calloway, would it?"

Lorna smiled. "No, it would not," she responded calmly.

"Don't lie, it ain't good for you," the first guard snapped. "You're obviously the runaway type from that little display you put on just now, so-"

"No, she's telling the truth." The second cop shook his head, jittering slightly as the other whirled on him. "I'I've seen the Calloway girl before. I was at Saint Helen's a few days ago, remember? With the box? She's petite and brown-haired. This girl's blond and pushing 5'9, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, you're right," the first one relented.

"So baldie has guard duty today," Callie murmured. "Small world." She finally opened her fist to see what Lorna had given her, and her heart nearly stopped in ecstasy: it was a spare car key. Callie tugged the edge of her friend's skirt. "Lorn-"

"Now Callie, now!" Lorna shouted. "Up! Drive!"

Both guards were stunned by the outburst. "Who are you talking to?" asked the first.

"My friend," Lorna said with a grin as Callie pushed herself back up into the driver's seat.

"That's her!" the second guard blurted. "That's Calloway!"

"The name's Callie," Callie said, feeling around below the seat for the adjustment lever.

"What are you doing?" Lorna hissed, compulsively locking the doors.

"Moving the seat forward, jeez." She slid all the way up, listening for the click. "You think I could've reached the gas and brake with my short little legs?"

Both men now had their hands on their guns. "We'll have to ask you to stop right there-"

"Oh please, you and what army?" Callie put the key in the ignition and turned it. "By the way, nice model you've got here. 1974 Dodge Monaco, right?" She lightly stroked the wheel with one fingertip. "Just like all those years ago. I guess I got lucky." She turned her head and grinned broadly at the two dumbfounded men. "Dad would have been proud, don't you think?" And with the punchline delivered, Callie stepped as hard as she could on the gas, leaving the gate to the Joliet Correctional Center in a puff of smoke.

"CALLIE! SLOW DOWN!"

"Who are you, my driving instructor?"

"No, just someone who DOESN'T WANT TO DIE TODAY!" Lorna clung with both hands to the rubber handle above the passenger door. "Would you PLEASE find it in you heart, as a friend, to NOT DRIVE AT 90 MILES PER HOUR?"

Callie glanced at the speedometer. "Silly, we're not going 90."

"We're not?"

"Nah, more like 95 and a half." Callie turned the wheel sharply as they approached the first corner. "And besides, we're on an empty road. What's there to be worried about?"

"HOW ABOUT YOUR BEST FRIEND SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUSTING?"

Callie smiled craftily. "Huh. I wonder what that looks like up close." She jerked around another corner. "That should speed the process up, I think."

Lorna took a few shaky breaths to regain a semblance of calm. "Callie do you see how hard I'm holding on to this handle?"

The car made another unsettling jerk as Callie changed lanes. "I can imagine."

"Good." Lorna took another breath. "Because if you don't start driving the speed limit, my hands will resume their white-knuckled grip on your throat."

"As you wish, milady." Callie took her foot off the gas and eased onto the brake, stopping them at the light.

"Thank God," Lorna said breathlessly.

Callie tapped the wheel impatiently, rolling her eyes. "I thought you liked adventure movies."

"Me too," Lorna admitted. "But let's just say I've determined that the 3-D experience isn't for me, kay?"

"Kay," Callie said doubtfully.

Lorna shifted in her seat, looking around. "Do you know where we are?"

Callie tilted the rearview mirror. "According to the cross streets we have behind us and the intersection that we are currently waiting to pass through, we're about five blocks away from Saint Helen's in the opposite direction of where we started."

"Oh hell," said Lorna, looking at Callie. "We go all that distance out of our way to find the right police car just so you can round-robin us back the other way?"

"Joliet Correctional Center is not en route to the Triple Rock," Callie said patiently.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out." Lorna looked up. "How long is this red light gonna take?"

"No idea." Callie flicked a glance in the same direction. "They might be trying to raise the bridge."

"Great. Just great." Lorna rolled her eyes and began to hit her head against her side of the dashboard. "I shelled out money to a cab driver so my best friend could steal another car and get us stuck inside it in a traffic jam."

"Hey, this isn't just any car." Callie spoke in uncharacteristic marvel. "It's a cop car, which means it's got cop tires, suspension and shocks, not to mention a siren, but it also used to be a regular car, a vintage Monaco no less, so we can treat it like one. A regular set of wheels, I mean."

Lorna gave her a funny look. "I never knew you were into cars."

"I'm not." Callie sighed. "But you're my only friend who's a girl. All the little boys I made holy mudpies with grew into guys who like to talk cars. So I studied up." She half-smiled in spite of herself. "Although, talking cars did segue very nicely into talking Bluesmobile. As in the Bluesmobile. A couple of the romantics sort of lust after it…" Callie giggled. "They say that thing could enter a demolition derby and come out alive and kickin'. The realists though, they say all the stunts were just legendary crap. Wet blankets."

Lorna craned her neck forward. "You've got space, move up."

Callie eased up on the brake for a millisecond and stepped down again. "There."

"Further."

Callie eased up on the brake again. "And up your tailpipe we go, Mister Ford."

Lorna laughed quietly. "Just don't hit him."

"Under control, Sis." They sat a moment more in silence before Callie broke it. "See? Look, the bridge is going up."

"How 'bout that?" Lorna laid back in the seat and closed her eyes. "Wake me for church."

Callie looked thoughtfully ahead. "I heard somewhere that to prove the car's worth, Elwood gunned the gas and managed to build enough forward momentum to jump an open drawbridge."

"That's nice." Lorna tipped her head slightly toward Callie. "What's your point?"

"My point is, do you dare me?"

"Dare you to what?"

"I think you know what." Callie rolled down her window and poked her head out. "There's room for me to pull out to the left, no cross traffic, and plenty to space between here and the first edge."

Lorna opened her eyes. "First edge?"

Callie revved the engine. "Yeah, the first edge. Followed in a small number of yards by the second." Foot still on the brake, she gripped the wheel to turn it. "And if the legend is true-"

"Callie, no." Lorna shot out her left hand and grabbed the wheel.

"Aw, come on!" Callie kept a firm hold. "We'll only be above the speed limit for a few minutes or so, and then we're in pure free-fall!"

"CALLIE, NO! ARE YOU CRAZY?" Lorna shouted. "I'M SCARES SHITLESS RIGHT NOW, PLEASE TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY!"

Callie couldn't hold it in any more: she burst out laughing. Lorna stared at her. "How is this funny?" she asked, breathless and dumbfounded. "How is this even remotely funny? Let me know now, 'cause I'm drawing a blank here."

"That's because you can't see your face!" Callie wheezed as she took a breath. "Oh my God, I got you so good!"

"Forgive me if I'm not thrilled." Lorna sat limply back in he seat, placing her hands on her lap belt.

"Well, consider that payback," said Callie, pulling the car into the once-again-moving traffic.

Lorna rolled her head to Callie's side. "Payback for what?"

"The sex joke."

Lorna sighed, exasperated. "That was two days ago. And given the extent in life-risking you just went to, I should at least get to make another one."

Callie shrugged. "Fine. Lay it on me."

Lorna thought. "I can't think of another one," she said finally.

"All right." Callie made another turn. "Just let me know when you do, and we'll be even."

"Callie, someday I'm going to murder you and save the country from public menace."

"Love you too, Lorn."

Less than ten minutes later, Callie pulled up to the curb and nudged her friend.

"Lorn. We're here."

"Yeah, I kind of got that from the steeple." Lorna sat up and unbuckled. "So this is the Triple Rock Baptist Chruch."

"Yep." Callie turned off the car and got out without another word.

Lorna lazily opened the door latch and pushed it the rest of the way open with her foot. As she got out, she realized Callie wasn't there in front of her.

"Hey, Cal-"

"Get your sunglasses."

Lorna startled slightly as Callie came around the opposite side of the car wearing the dark shades from the box.

"They're out looking for us now," Callie explained, unusually deadpan. She adjusted the frames on her small face. "We have to protect our identities."

"Right." Lorna fumbled in her purse, retrieving a secondhand pair of Foster Grant's.

Callie smiled. "Stylish."

Lorna grinned back as she put them on. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself."

Callie looked uneasily at the church. "We're probably late, but we could still sneak in, right?"

Lorna shrugged. "Up to you."

"I mean, we won't be too tacky coming in if we're quiet, right?"

"Nah, we'll be fine." Lorna looked ahead, then back at Callie. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." She set off at a speedwalk towards the entrance.

"And just refresh me on what we're doing here?" Lorna asked, catching up with her on the step.

"I can't do that," Callie answered..

"Why the hell not?"

"Because." She pulled open the heavy front door. "I don't exactly know either."

"Great plan there," Lorna grumbled.

"However tiny, convoluted or near-nonexistent it may be…" Callie reminded her friend as they slipped inside.

Lorna sighed. "Using my own words against me."

"Darn right." Callie took her by the arm. "Now come on. We're going to a church service, not decreasing the surplus population."

Lorna groaned. "Of all the times to reference 'A Christmas Carol'…"

"Ssh!" Callie ran a few steps ahead and pressed her ear to the chapel doors. "I don't hear a sermon."

"What? Hold on." Lorna joined her at the doorjamb. She eased the door on the left open just slightly, and quickly closed it again. "They're mingling. Either we missed it completely, or they're starting late."

"Good. Let's find out." Callie forcefully pushed the doors open and walked into the aisle. The room she entered was flooded with colors, smells and action: a stark contrast from the dingy gray and white she and Lorna had come to associate with the morning masses at Saint Helen's. Ladies decked out in their Sunday best stood in clusters and gossiped. Some of them broke off, excusing themselves to help out in the basement kitchen. At the mention of the word, the others would all voice their support and approval, inadvertently masking the sound of Callie and Lorna's stomachs growling. The men milled about, greeting one another and stopping once and a while for conversation. A few of them tipped their hats to the girls, wishing them a "good morning," and a few "Lord be with you"'s. They were overcome by the openness and friendliness of the place, but most of all by the color. Even though it was most accurately off-white outside, the sunlight painted the walls a brilliant yellow, accenting the blue plates of the stained glass windows. The patrons were just as colorful themselves, dressed in every bold hue imaginable. Even the children were friendly. They were sure to say a polite good morning to the light-skinned girls before running and hiding themselves in their mothers' skirts.

"Lorn, are you getting all this?" Callie looked around in wonder. "Are you feeling all this? It's like somebody took this beautiful, friendly, close-knit, nice little neighborhood and poured it into one room."

"Yeah…" Lorna agreed, looking around more uncomfortably. "An all-black neighborhood."

"So? What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. It's just…" Lorna racked her brain for a comparison. "It's just that…I feel like…a pimple."

"A pimple?" Callie wrinkled her nose. "How so?"

"Like, you know, that white thing that barges it way onto your face, even though it's universally unwanted."

Callie laughed loudly, drawing a bit of attention. "Unwanted? Okay, I admit, we're two pasty white girls wearing Catholic school uniforms and dark sunglasses in a majority African-American church. A little awkward maybe, but look around you!" She made a wide gesture with her arms. Is 'unwanted' really the first word that comes to mind?"

"Well well well, what have we got us here?"

Callie and Lorna turned around to see a big black lady coming towards them, small child in tow, and not at all pleased-looking.

"Does that answer your question?" Lorna whispered.

"Benn a long time since we've seen a light-skinned face in here," the lady continued, now close enough to them for a civil conversation. "Seems folks of different groups like to keep to 'emselves, but we love to see a new face-" She tipped her head up slightly to address Lorna. "Even if it's a couple of uppity white girls who don't give an everlovin' stink about the Lord."

"Now hold on a minute, ma'am." Callie spoke assertively as she stepped forward. "That's not us at all." She cleared her throat. "See, we came here to join you and your fine contemporaries in praise because we love the Lord. We do indeed, and we'd like to think we do on the same level as yourself. But our teachers have prevented us from raising our voices in praise in the ever-so enlightening way that is practiced here at the Triple Rock Baptist Church. Therefore, my sister and I have come here in hopes of joining you and others in this endeavor."

The lady was speechless for a moment or two, and had to compose herself to respond. "I-I'm sorry. I had no idea."

Lorna nudged Callie. "First of all, nice going," she said in a low voice, "but honestly, where did that come from?"

"Honestly, as with our reason for being here in the first place, I have no idea," Callie answered at the same volume. She raised her voice to respond to the lady. "I hope we're not imposing on anyone by being here."

"No worries, honey." The lady waved off the apology. "Anyone's welcome here that's got the spirit." She grimaced slightly, regarding the pair of them. "And I'm still not sure what you two've got, but-"

"Oh Ruthie baby, you got to know what they got." An older African-American gentleman made his way up to them, leaning on a mahogany cane. "I'll tell you right now what these two got." He squinted, looking from Lorna to Callie, but keeping a face of conviction. "These girls got soul."

Callie nodded once. "Thank you, sir."

"Psh." "Ruthie" waved that away as well. "He tells everybody they got soul."

"That's 'cause everybody got it!" In his excitement, the older man lost firm grip on his cane and had to steady himself. "They's been nobody today nor last Sunday nor the holy day before that who I seen who ain't got no soul! Everyone, all God's children got soul. Even when they stray from the path and don't feel it, even when they stray from the path and they say they're empty inside. Even when those children stray from the path and say they ain't got no soul, they're wrong! And if they look for just a moment, just a moment inside themselves, they'll see those souls. They'll see those souls, lightin' them a way home!"

On the ending word, his balance gave way a second time, but he caught himself on the edge of a pew. His small groan of pain was then drowned out by applause and choruses of appreciative "hallelujah"'s from the groups that had migrated nearer to listen.

Ruth sniffed. "Now let that be a lesson to you girls, don't you ever get involved with a preachin' man, 'cause the preachin' won't ever leave 'im." She looked disapprovingly towards the man. "You see what that gets you nowadays, Cleophus? More pain for that stiff, old leg of yours. Now come on."

Lorna gave Ruth a confused look. "Is he your husband?"

"Him?" Lorna shirked as Ruth burst into a gale of laughter. "No, hon," she said finally. "The reverend, or should I say former reverend Cleophus James is my baby girl's granddaddy."

"So he's your father?" Lorna asked.

"More like father-in-law, if they're on a mutual first-name basis," said Callie.

Ruth looked down at Callie, then back at Lorna. "Little quick for her age, ain't she?"

Lorna chuckled. "She's seventeen, ma'am."

Ruth did a double-take. "You sure?"

"We were raised together" Lorna said simply.

"Well, ain't you the proud big sis!" Ruth took one of Lorna's hands and clasped it in her own. "My little baby Jezebel's seventeen and a half now, almost a full grown woman!" She glanced over her shoulder once, seeing some other church ladies beckoning to her. "Speakin' of which, 'fraid I'll have to leave you two now." She put a hand on Lorna's shoulder. "Just do me a favor and make sure the reverend gets himself set down comfortably, or I might not hear the end of it."

"Sure, ma'am." Lorna turned to her friend. "Callie, help me-"

"Oh, don't worry yourself young lady, I can get set down comfortable without anybody's help." The reverend sighed, leaning on his cane again. After a few seconds, he motioned for them to come closer. Cautiously, they did.

"You two've got more soul in you than you realize." He looked from Lorna to Callie, as he had done before. "Soul don't come from goin' to church and hearin' no man like me preach at you. No, soul comes when you free yourself in your own way. Can't nobody tell you how, buy you got to do it." He looked at Callie, pointing at her with his free hand. "And you've done it. You know you're only part of the way there child, but you done it."

Callie stiffened. "What are you- how did you-?"

He ignored her question. "I can tell you got soul by how you talk 'bout things the way you do." He looked Callie in the eye so intensely that she had to step back. "You talk with such livin' words and a dead voice, I know the soul's got to be in there, just hidin' somewhere, needin' to come out and see the light…" he trailed off, as if his words had brought back a memory.

"Are you all right, sir?" Lorna asked, compensating for Callie's state of speechlessness.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." The reverend Cleophus James turned his attention to her. "And you, missy. You and your sister…" He glanced at Callie, then back at Lorna. "On a journey."

"Well yeah, you could say that," Lorna relented, "but she's not my-"

The reverend let out a reflective sigh. "In my younger days, when the words I said were still taken by these fine people as the teachin's of the Lord, one mornin' I saw two white boys standin' in the back of my church. A tall one and a hefty one, dark shades, dark suits, both lookin' like they had some sort of debt to pay off by bein' there." Callie and Lorna slowly looked at eachother as the reverend continued. "So there they were, just standin' there, and then the light shines just right through the windows on one of 'em, and the boy looks like he's woken up for the first time. I asked him if he seen the light, he said he had, and next thing I know, he's up in front dancin' his heart out." He shook his head. "Somethin' tells me nobody makes those boys move when they don't want to."

"Ahem…" Lorna elbowed Callie in the side.

"So what you're saying," Callie began, surprising Lorna by actually having paid attention, "is that we need to see the light to know what our souls want us to do?"

The reverend smiled. "I never said it, but it never hurts listenin' to your own heart." He looked at her seriously one last time. "Just remember child, the light don't always shine its brightest in here." He looked at Lorna. "Missy, could you hold my cane a moment while I set myself-" he grumbled the next few words, "like my Ruthie said?"

Lorna nodded quickly. "Sure." She took it from him as he eased himself into the pew on their left.

"Lorn…Lorn…" Callie insistently tapped her friend's arm. "Lorn…"

"Hold your horses!" Lorna snapped. She carefully leaned the cane against the edge of the pew and turned around. "What?"

"Lorna, do you know who that was?"

"The reverend Cleophus James," Lorna answered. "Ruthie told us that."

"That's the obvious part, yes," Callie persisted, "But-"

"I didn't know you were _delving_," Lorna said in a clipped voice, cutting her off. "I'll withdraw the 'obvious' answer and give you a new one. I've just seated the reverend Cleophus James who, according to the urban legends starring your newly-found dad and uncle, used to preach every morning under this very roof, and was known to have saved many souls, including that of one Jake E. Blues." Lorna looked at Callie once as she finished, then turned on her heel and walked towards the back of the church.

"Lorn, wait!" Thinking her friend was leaving, Callie took a running start, but ended up skidding to a stop next to her where the carpet ended.

"I'm not as dumb as you think I am, Callie," Lorna said.

"Sorry," Callie mumbled. She squinted up at Lorna. "Why are we standing back here? We could at least sit if you want to be in back."

Lorna looked back at her with a smirk. "Do you want to authenticate the experience or not?" She made a cursory glance upward and moved to Callie's other side. "Jake was under the window."

"I-" Callie gazed upward at the blue stained glass. She guffawed. "I- you-" She looked at Lorna. "You-you remembered?"

"I listen and remember." Lorna smiled. "Not as dumb as you think I am," she reminded her.

Callie punched her on the arm. "Yeah, I got it."

"Brothers and sisters!" A call from the front of the chapel silenced the room. "Please, take your seats so that this service of enlightenment may begin!"

There was a general shuffling of feet and bodies as the patrons took their seats. The man who had called out the greeting cleared his throat from the pulpit.

"Brothers and sisters!" he said again. "We have gathered here on his beautiful Sunday morning, as we do every Sunday morning, to sing our praises to that savior of saviors, that glory of all glories we call our Lord God."

"Amen!" shouted a family in the back pew.

"Ay-men!" shouted a cluster of children from the rafters.

"Amen, brother!" called out reverend Cleophus James. "You preach us good, now! You preach us good 'bout ourselves!"

"And so today, in place of our usual sermon, our very own Triple Rock Baptist choir has prepared a special song for you all. Please enjoy."

"He says that like we have a choice," Lorna muttered.

Callie lifted one shoulder. "Well, we technically do."

"Yeah, but it's not like he expects us to analyze the performance when it's all done." Lorna shook her head. "I thought you said you stayed awake for psych."

Callie opened her mouth to speak, but guiltily shut it again as the chorus music began.

"Catchy," she whispered to Lorna without response.

_It has begun, nothin' in the world can stop it now…_

Lorna leaned over to Callie. "Is he singing tenor part?"

Callie shook her head. "That's baritone."

"Oh." Lorna nodded. "Nice voice."

"Yeah."

_It's in control, we might as well just try to stop the wind…_

"Let's sway."

Lorna made a face. "What?"

"Sway in time, like the chorus."

"Why?"

"So they know the white girls're getting into it."

"Fine. Even though we look like someone's white trash backup singers as it is."

"Shut up."

_Give up! Give in!  
>You lose! Love will always win.<br>Start surrendering:  
>Stop resisting!<em>

The group hit a note that all at once made the entire congregation cheer, including Callie and Lorna.

_Nothin' you can do about it  
>It's too strong to be denied<br>Nothin' you can do about it,  
>Relax, enjoy the ride…<em>

Now, the whole of the chapel was clapping in time to the song, and of course, joyously calling out their amens as they swayed.

"I told you," Callie whispered.

"There. Now, was that so bad?"

"Not terrible. Church is actually okay when people don't make a funeral dirge out of the whole thing."

The two girls were standing in the smallish alcove just outside the chapel doors, trying not to look like they needed to leave which, they admittedly discovered, is a hard thing to do when the opposite is the case.

"You girls have a good time here with us?"

Lorna fielded the question, leaving Callie alone with the quiet, surmounting nervousness. "Of course we did Ruth, is it all right if I call you Ruth? Good, so anyway yes-"

"Seems she can talk as nice as you in her own way."

Callie slowly turned around to find the reverend Cleophus addressing her. She sighed and nodded.

He looked contemplatively at the glass in the wooden front door. "You remember what I told you 'bout seein' the light?"

Callie nodded slowly. "How it doesn't always shine its brightest in the chapel?"

He nodded once. "I think you're about to understand it a bit more."

Callie squinted. "Understand it more how?"

"I don't know." He moved his cane and started for the door. "You got to find out from your soul." He looked over his shoulder. "Mr. Soul Man, he always knows."

"Oh look, they have a bulletin board!"

"Wh- huh?" Callie turned again, feeling lightheaded. "What's the newsflash?"

"I don't know yet."

Callie chuckled. "Is this your revenge?"

Lorna gave her a knowing look. "Oh, you wish my revenge was a simple wasting of your time. No Callie, when I'm avenging, you'll know."

"Oh joy," Callie mumbled.

"Hey, Callie…" A flyer caught Lorna's eye and she gently untacked it. "I think you should see-"

"Lorna, those people are pointing and whispering. We need to go."

Lorna looked where she was referencing. "You're right, we'll discuss it in the car." She crumpled the flyer in her right fist and started walking.

"Lorn, wait…" Callie rushed out the door after her. "What did you want me to see?"

"You told me to go, so I'm going." Lorna turned and walked backward a few paces. "I just happened to see a flyer tacked on that bulletin board that you might find interesting, that's all."

"And out of curiosity, what made you think I'd be interested?"

"I dunno, it might be nothing, except for the words "R+B tribute bands" clearly printed at the top."

"Fine, let me see it!" Callie grabbed for the paper in Lorna's hand.

"In the car," Lorna repeated, pulling it out of reach.

"Fine," Callie repeated, still holding her hand out in front of her. "Keys?"  
>"Here." Lorna took them out of her purse. "But you've got to drive <span>slower<span> now, kapiche?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Callie grabbed the keys and circled to the driver's side of the Monaco. "Fast and slow are relative terms, you know."

"Unlock it!" Lorna barked as Callie gave a futile tug on her car door handle. "Also, in what universe does 95 miles an hour not constitute 'fast'?"

"Wherever there's warp speed." Callie opened her door and got in, giving Lorna the cue to do the same. But just as they had both slammed their doors shut, Lorna sensed motion in the back seat.

"What's up?" Callie asked, noticing her flinch.

Lorna shook it off. "Nothing, let's go." She straightened up in her seat. "Where to next, Captain?"

Callie buckled in and started to re-adjust her mirrors. "Well, by this evening, we'll want to end up at the Backbeat or Blue Note, but for right now, we need to…" she trailed off, slowly lowering her hand from the rearview panel. "Lorna, there's someone in the back."

Lorna rolled her eyes. "If you're trying to get on my nerves about a second ago, it's not going to work." She turned around to prove her friend wrong, and immediately faced front again. "Well, I'm never doubting you again."

Callie made a face. "You really thought I was lying?"

"To be honest, I was basing it on the fact that our guest _**didn't say anything when you acknowledged her**_."

"That's 'cause I was hopin' you two'd eventually quit yakkin' and drive somewhere."

Callie and Lorna exchanged nervous glances in the front seat, and then both looked back at their passenger. It was one of the members of the choir, still in her robes, and staring back at them like she wanted them dead.

Callie sighed, slowly turning back around and putting her hands on the wheel. "Where do you want driven to?"

"Callie!" Lorna protested before she could stop herself.

"Lorn, it's okay." Callie put the key in the ignition, but didn't turn it. "Where do you want to go?" she repeated.

"Anywhere, long as it's not here."

"Okay." Callie turned the car on. "How's a semi-out-of-town clothing store sound?"

The passenger shrugged. "Fine with me."

"Good." Callie revved the engine and shifted to drive. "Your group sang really well today."

The girl in the back made a 'hmph' sound. "Thanks, I guess."

"Callie, what are you doing?" Lorna whispered.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Callie whispered back. "I'm helping out a runaway, like us."

"Callie you do realize we don't have the upper-hand if anything goes wrong here."

Callie looked doubtfully at the back. "Like what?"

"Like if she has a gun or something. Callie, we don't know her."

"Actually, we do have the upper-hand," Callie interjected. "She asked us for help."

Lorna scoffed. "I wouldn't call what she's doing 'asking for help'…"

"You know what, Lorna? You're wrong. And I'll prove it." Callie turned back again. "So, by the way, what's your name?"

The passenger smiled the biggest, whitest smile Callie had ever seen. "Shut the fuck up and drive."

"Not so wrong now, am I?" Lorna said.

Callie laughed nervously. "I'm sorry?"

The smile disappeared. "I said, shut the fuck up and drive."

Callie wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt and grabbed the wheel again. "I said I would-"

"Callie…" Lorna was looking nervously backward. "I think you should step on the gas."

Now it was Callie's turn to scoff. "Why should I-"

"Wrong answer." A hand with a sharpened steak knife emerged one inch to the right of Callie's ear. "She told you to step on it, so drive!"

Callie hit the gas in a millisecond, making the tires squeal as they dashed out into traffic.

"Don't have to tell me more than once," she muttered.

"Wrong again!" Both the voice from the back seat and the hand holding the knife were shaky now. "Between me and her, we told you four times. You lose."

Lorna laughed out loud. "Now it's official, babe!"

"Shut up," Callie grumbled.

Lorna turned to their passenger. "if you could put the knife away sweetie, I think we'd all have a better ride."

The choir girl nodded, slowly retracting her arm and putting the knife on the seat next to her. "Sorry. I just got a li'l carried away."

"Happens to the best of us," Callie assured her. They drove in silence for a while after that.

"It's Jezebel, if you still care."

Lorna frowned. "What?"

"My name. Jezebel."

"Oh."

"Well, nice to meet you, Jezebel!" Callie said cheerfully. "I'm Calloway, and she's Lorna."

"Calloway?"

"Yeah, I'm not entirely Zen with it either. That's why people call me Callie."

"No, I like it." Jezebel smiled. "It's not every day you meet people with good names." She almost laughed. "I mean, even with mine. It's biblical and all, but it's not exactly Sarah if you know what I mean."

"Actually, I know another Jezebel." Callie flicked the turn signal. "Then again, Lorna and I are Catholic school brats." She considered. "But names are just labels. They can be changed. What do you want us to call you?"

"I don't know," Jezebel reluctantly answered. "I never really thought about nicknames."

"Let's try this, then." Callie looked at her in the rearview mirror. "What's your full name?"

"Jezebel Bathsheba James."

"Of course," Lorna said, more to herself than anyone. "Of course she's Ruth's daughter and Cleophus' granddaughter."

"Easy!" Callie said immediately. "We'll call you J.J."

"J.J. I like that." Jezebel relaxed in her seat. "While we're playing, what's your full name, Callie?"

"Calloway Curtis." She paused, putting the brake on. "No middle name." She ignored Lorna's look of alarmed confusion. "Why?"

Jezebel smiled again. "Can I call you Cece then?"

Callie grinned. "Hey, why not?" She elbowed Lorna. "Now you need one, Lorn."

"Hey, why not?" Lorna said with minimal enthusiasm.

"Thorn," said Jezebel.

"Hey, that fits. I actually like that." Lorna smiled. "Thanks, J.J."

Jezebel leaned forward. "On your right." She pointed. "Goodwill."

"Let me get this straight. Two girls, two teenage girls broke into your squad car , parked right in plain sight, and they stole it?" The two cops hung their heads, standing in front of the commissioner's desk.

"Yes ma'am," said the first.

"Well, that's just peachy."

The second spoke up. "We're sorry, madam commissioner-"

"Sorry doesn't make my job any easier." She sighed. "Fine. I'll put in a request for a replacement vehicle for you two, and we'll get the two girls' names out there so they can be dealt with." She opened her top drawer for a notepad. "Though I don't see why you didn't do this yourselves already. She uncapped her pen. "Names?"

The second one piped up again. "A previous unknown, Lorna Jennifer Whitesnake, and one with a few minor marks for reckless driving and miscellaneous, Calloway Blues."

The commissioner stopped. "What?"

"Lorna and Calloway. They ran away from the Saint Helen's establishment this morning-"

"No." The commissioner looked up. "What did you say Calloway's last name was?"

"I-I didn't-"

"Blues," the first one answered for him.

"That's what I thought." She capped her pen. "You may go."

After they left, she picked up the phone and dialed the scheduling extension. "Hello, Robert? Yes, I'm giving myself an assignment, one that was just brought to my attention, apprehension of two underage felons. Yes, thank you. Goodbye." She hung up, smiling to herself. "Oh Callie my dear," she thought, "you're going to lead me straight to Elwood, and that man's going to get exactly what he deserves."


	5. No boredom for 30 days

Lorna knocked loudly on the changing room door. "Callie? What's the verdict?"

"No luck." Callie heaved a gigantic stack of jeans over the top of the door into Lorna's arms. "The sevens are too tight at the joints, and the nines hang funny."

"Picky, picky," Lorna commented sardonically. "I hate to play Captain Obvious here, but what about the eights?"

"Butt-ugly slash too long." A bundle of hangers peeked over the door. "Still, closer than the others."

Lorna took the hangers and began to re-organize the stack. "Good. I'll find you some more eights."

"Hold on a sec." Callie opened the door a crack. "You see that pair on top?"

"Yeah…" Lorna picked up the jeans between two fingers, examining the distasteful graffiti inked on them by the previous owners. "I can see why you used the phrase butt-ugly."

"Yeah, well, those fit near perfectly."

Lorna checked the tag. "Petite, size eight." She nodded to herself. "Makes sense." She flung them in Callie's direction. "Keep these for now. If I can't find any more that fit you, we'll take these and fix them somehow."

"Really?" Callie picked up the jeans as she closed the door. "How does one rid clothes of permanent ink with no known access to a washer?"

"We'll cut all those bad parts out and patch 'em." J.J came out of the changing room and stationed herself in front of the mirror directly to Lorna's back. "That or we could make the holes look like they're s'posed to be there. Your choice."

Callie snickered. "Great. And we welcome you to yet another episode of Lorna's great adventures with needles and thread!"

J.J pulled her light sweater-jacket around herself as she crossed her arms. "Do I wanna know?"

Lorna grimaced. "I sewed my sampler to my skirt once, and Callie here won't let me forget it."

"'Cause it was so damn funny!" Callie howled. "And she didn't know she did it until she tried to pick it up to show Sister Catherine and showed her something else instead!"

"I'm sure glad you think the story's worthy of the intercom, Callie." Lorna picked up the final pile of castoffs. "But please, until you've at least found an outfit, shut up." She took the clothes out of the changing area and hung them on the nearby "to be shelved" rack. As she did so, her hand brushed the lone item there before her: another pair of jeans.

"What're the odds…?" She peeked inside the waistband at the tag which read, as she suspected, petite size eight. "Son of a -!" Lorna exclaimed in surprise. She grabbed the jeans and barged back into the changing area.

"Guess what, kid." Lorna planted herself outside Callie's stall and waited for an answer.

"Beats me," came her friend's voice from inside. "What?"

"I'm magic." Lorna tossed the jeans over to her. "Try these on."

There was a brief rustle and then a zip. "You're right!" Callie said in an awed voice. "You are magic, Lorn!"

"How'd you get back with those so fast, anyway?" Jezebel asked her.

Lorna rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't believe my dumb luck today."

"I would." Callie strode out of her dressing room sporting the new jeans and a white graphic T-shirt with a picture of notes flying off a music staff.

"Finally," Lorna and J.J chorused.

"I'm glad you approve," Callie responded amiably. "And I'd like to say that I approve of your clothing choices as well, life campaigning and otherwise," she commented, acknowledging Lorna's baggy 'Save Carrie White' top.

J.J smiled. "Thanks Cece."

"All right you kids, let's blow this Popsicle stand!" Lorna looked at J.J. "Would you mind too much picking up your un-wearables while Cece and I get ourselves scanned and paid for?"

"Unless you need us to pay for you as well…" added Callie.

"Nah, that's fine," Jezebel assured them as she headed back in the direction of her door. "I planned fine for myself 'fore I found you two. I'll pay for my own clothes, don't you worry."

"But we could if you-"

"Okay, J.J!" Lorna called, grabbing Callie by the arm and dragging.

"Let me go, I'm not your five-year-old," Callie rather loudly griped.

Lorna halted between the 'used adult book' shelves and put herself in Callie's path. "All right, Callie. You and I need to have words."

Callie frowned. "Why? Isn't everything going more or less passably?"

"Not exactly! Which by the way is my first and least pleasant can of worms."

The odd phrasing caught Callie's attention. "There's a second, non-objectionable can of worms?"

"Yes. Namely this." Lorna pulled the crumpled-up flyer from her purse. "Take a look."

"Call for R+B tribute bands: Battle of the Bands Contest," Callie read, slowly taking the paper from her friend's hands. "Winner will be seen by representative of Atlantic Records with intention of business." She stopped, her hands shaking the tiniest bit, but she cleared her throat and went on. "Auditions and final contest to be held at the Chicago House of Blues. Auditioning bands will be seen on the 28th and 29th of July, with the final contest on the 31st." Callie did the math in her head. "Exactly two weeks away." She looked at Lorna. "But we don't have a-" Callie suddenly stopped short. She turned her head partly away. She furrowed her brow, then nodded to herself. She began to pace, murmuring, deep in interpersonal conversation: first nodding, then shaking her head, tipping it to the side, then nodding again, all with her impassible "game face" on. Lorna, feeling incredibly lost, finally put a stop to the charade.

"Callie, what in the world are you thinking about?"

"You, man." Callie had made her way back over to Lorna as she was speaking, and now gave her a tight hug. "You are magic."

Lorna grimaced. "As much as I'd like to say thank you, I'm choosing instead to ask why."

"Because you saw the light, and I didn't." Callie pulled away, still giddy in a new plan and discovery. "I was about to say that we could never conceivably do this thing on our own. What would we even call a drum kit and baritone saxophone duo?"

"I don't know," Lorna admitted. "But I didn't grab this so we could enter." She looked carefully at her friend. "I took it so we'd know the time and place and just watch. I thought you'dve caught onto that."

"Oh." Callie blinked. "But that's not important now," she said quickly. "What's important is that it is possible now."

Lorna frowned. "What's possible?"

"Entering as a band of course!"

"How is that more possible now than it was five seconds ago?"

Callie shook her head, smiling. "It was possible ever since Maury Sline gave us those clubs to find."

Lorna made another face. "I don't see your logic here, chief."

"All we have to do is play the next generation game. If J.J exists, it's definitely possible that-"

"Whoa there, Callie." Lorna held her hands out in front of her. "I know where you're going with this, and it's just plain creepy."

"It's not creepy if we make it seem like a coincidence."

"But if it seems like a coincidence, it'll be creepy."

"Noted." Callie was pacing again. "We'll just have to make sure none of them figure it out."

"That seems logical." Lorna crossed her arms. "And how do you propose to do that?"

"The best way there is." Callie stopped and turned around. "By not telling any lies."

"Oh?" Lorna raised an eyebrow. "So are you going to tell Jezebel your last name?"

"Hell, no!" Callie exclaimed, looking shocked.

Lorna shrugged. "Why not? If you're getting out of the lying business, you may as well clear your record from the beginning."

"I wasn't lying." Callie gave Lorna a dirty look. "Blues isn't any real last name. It's not even my dad's real last name."

"Wrong," Lorna informed her. "The town of Joliet has record of an Elwood Jacobs and a Jake Evans together changing their last name to Blues. Given of course, the previous last names they gave the record-keeper were most likely crap, but the law system in this case holds. Try again, babe."

"Fine, I lied to her. But I'm not lying to anyone else." Callie put her hands in her pockets. "I just won't bring that topic up."

"Lying by omission's still lying, Callie."

"No it's not." Callie flicked a glance at J.J. "And even if it is, I can't tell anyone I'm a Blues. Especially not if I want to recruit them. If they knew anything at all about their old men or whichever relevant relations, they'll know the name's nothing but trouble." Callie lifted her right shoulder in a shrug. "I don't know. For me, it's a turn-on to the situation, but other might see it as, you know, a deal breaker."

"No kidding." Lorna sighed. "Is this really the route you want to go?"

Callie winced, looking back at her. "I'm not sure there's any other way to go."

"Just answer me one thing," Lorna said.

"What's that?"

Lorna looked at her best friend as seriously as she could. "What happens to the band when you find your uncle Elwood?"

Callie made a face, faking a short laugh. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." Lorna furtively looked in J.J's direction and then pulled Callie over into a corner. "I'd be an idiot if I didn't know you were figuring on finding him at this Battle of the Bands shindig. If all your plans go to hell once he's in the equation, fine. But I have to know. What happens if and when you find him?"

Callie uncomfortably scratched the back of her neck. "Would you be mad if I said I don't figure on going much further than auditions?"

"Hey, that's not my problem." Lorna caught the eye of a salesperson and waved him over. "But if you're planning on pitching this to our stowaway, I'd recommend at least the appearance of a genuine plan."

"Okay, okay." Callie conveniently broke off as the Goodwill employee approached them. "Hey, we'd kind of like to wear these duds out of here. Can you scan us?"

"Uh, sure." The blue-vested man pulled the price gun from his belt. "Start with the coat?

"Oh no, that's mine." Callie corrected him right away, removing it and holding it up. "I had it on when I came in. See? No tags." She gingerly draped it over a freestanding secondhand chair. "So, can we do this?" She stretched the corner of her T-shirt with the tag on it towards him. 'This one I got from here."

"Good deal." The laser scanned with a high-pitched 'beep!' "Jeans?"

Callie swiveled a hip. "Got 'em!" After that beep, she lifted a shoe. "Tag on the bottom." 'Beep!' went the scanner.

"Uh, here, scan me too." Lorna somewhat guiltily gave the salesperson a handful of tags. "I took the tags off as soon as I had the stuff on. It's a bad habit."

He shrugged. "No problem."

Callie tapped her friend on the arm. "Lorna?"

Lorna looked down at her, frowning at the tone of voice. "What's up?"

"I know this is a really bad time to bring this up, but I totally forgot how we're paying for these."

Lorna rolled her eyes. "Do you think I'd have let you lead the charge inside if I didn't know how we were paying for whatever?" She shook her head. "I've got it covered, kid."

Callie nodded. "Deadheads leave you a trust?"

"A bank card, actually." Lorna began to follow their scanner person over to a checkout station. "A few hundred dollars on it, too. Not much, but enough to at least get started with pulling this gig off."

"Thanks, Lorna," Callie murmured. She chuckled. "I have a feeling I'll be saying that a lot in the near future."

Lorna shrugged. "What can I say?" She grinned at Callie. "Lucky for you, I never get tired of hearing it."

The salesperson handed them a receipt and a wad of bills and coins. "Here's your change. Have a nice day."

"Thanks, you too." Callie tried to walk away, but Lorna caught her by the collar.

"Sir?" Lorna addressed the salesperson as she held on to a struggling Cece. "How is it that we have change? We didn't pay you."

"He has his reasons," Callie said, impatiently tugging forward. "Let's go."

"Actually, someone else paid for you." The man looked at them. "Do you two know a Jezebel James?"

"Yes," they chorused.

He gave them another strange look, then continued. "She handed me a fifty dollar bill for her things and aid that the rest and change were for the blond-brunette duet behind her." He shrugged. "I'm holding out my best hope she meant you two."

"Yeah, let's go with that." Callie tugged again, almost hard enough to rip her jacket. "Come on Lorn, let's go find her."

"Have a nice day!" Lorna instinctively called over her shoulder. The man waved, still with a strange look on his face.

"What do you care?" Callie asked her when they got outside.

"What do I care about what?"

"About whether he has a nice day or not." Callie took long strides into the parking lot, scanning for the vehicle. She pointed to the left. "Over there. And I think that's J.J leaning on it."

"You'd better hope that's J.J leaning on our car." Lorna shook her head in wonder. "Can't imagine what would happen if a sane person was waiting for us."

"About time," J.J called out as she spotted them. "I thought you two was gonna settle and raise a family in there."

"Nope, we're out." Lorna held up her hands in innocence. "Homesteading was the farthest thing from our minds."

"Yeah, she speaks for both of us," Callie confirmed with a half-shrug. "Raising a family? Not even thinking about it."

Jezebel smiled politely at the intended humor. "Yeah, well count yourself lucky for that one, Cece."

"Okay then!" Lorna spoke up loudly, willing the icy silence to discontinue its course. "Shall we get this show on the road?"

"Uh yeah, sure thing." Callie shook off the tension. "You got the keys?"

"Right-" Lorna paused, worming her hand around in her purse. "Um, Callie? Are you sure you don't have them?"

"Positive," Callie said slowly. "I didn't have any pockets before now, Lorn."

"Looking for these?"

Callie and Lorna looked up to see Jezebel casually twirling the key ring on her finger. They shared a short, dumbfounded look before J.J spoke again.

"What, you think just because you gave me a ride to some clothes store that I trust you?" She nodded to Lorna's purse. "Had 'em out before we even got in the door."

"What was the point of that?" Callie snapped, snatching the keys. "You weren't just going to drive off in a stolen police car, were you?"

"You two think you know everything about- wait, stolen?"

"That's right." Callie unlocked the doors and got in. "You thought this car belonged to us?"

"Sure, now it's us," Lorna griped, sliding into shotgun.

Jezebel climbed silently into the back. "So…you really meant it about the 'runaway, like us' business."

"Guilty." Callie started the car and shifted to reverse. "Consider yourself honored." She looked behind her as she backed out of the space. "You're spending our first day on the run and what's turning out to be the longest day ever with two unsung amateurs. Namely us."

"Yeah, sure. Honored." Jezebel looked out the window.

Callie heard the sad twinge in J.J's voice. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Oh, nothin'." J.J settled back. "Nothin' I can't handle."

"It's okay," Lorna said reassuringly. "You don't have to talk or anything."

Callie flicked the turn signal. "So why'd you run off?"

"What did I just say, Callie?" Lorna rolled her eyes and put her hand over her face. "What did I just say?"

J.J sighed. "It's all right, Thorn. You two might as well know. My folks want me to get married."

"Well, that's not-" Callie started in before Lorna elbowed her. "How soon are we talking?"

"Soon as I complete my senior year of high school."

Callie whistled. 'Pretty straight succession, isn't it?"

"Yeah. That's why I ran." Jezebel sat forward again. "So while we're on that, why're you two on the run?"

Lorna gave Callie a wary sideways look in the pause, but her friend seemed calm and assured as ever. "They were holding us back."

J.J winced. "What? Who?"

"Everyone. The nuns, the church, the boarding school, our sheep of classmates, the establishment in general." Callie looked at J.J in the rearview mirror. "We wanted to do something with our lives that was all but forbidden by our environment."

"Hm." J.J nodded once. "And that is…?"

"Starting a band."

"And here we go," mumbled Lorna.

Jezebel raised an eyebrow at Callie. "I get the feeling this band thing is more of your bag than hers."

"That's true." Callie turned a corner. "But we're partners in crime, right Lorn?"

"Always," Lorna agreed amiably. "By the way, as a point of order that is, does my partner in crime know where she's going?"

Callie was silent for a moment. "Oh crap, no," she said finally. She scanned the upcoming streetsides for an empty spot. "Lemme pull over a sec." She clumsily pulled the Monaco up beside and empty curb. "Hey Lorn, can you get a GPS function on your phone?"

"No, but I can access Google Maps." Lorna began navigating the screens. "And where were we trying first?"

"I don't know." Callie casually lifted a shoulder. "Which sounds more inviting to you, The Backbeat or The Blue Note?"

"The Backbeat." While the two up front had been talking, J.J had positioned herself to see over Lorna's shoulder. "The Blue Note's closed on Sundays."

Lorna grinned. "Well you just made my job a whole lot easier." She typed 'The Backbeat' on her keypad and poked the screen. "Well I'll be damned."

"What is it?" Callie leaned over to see. "Are we close?"

Lorna, still dubious, pointed ahead of them. "Two blocks straight ahead and its on your side of the street."

"Yeah, that's about right." Jezebel sat back again. "My friends and I used to hang out there and hide from our parents." She looked ahead. "What's you guys' business in there, anyhow?"

Callie shifted the car back to drive. "Scouting and recruiting."

J.J blinked. "Okay, I get that I'm outside the situation here, but what?"

"We told you we were starting a band, right?"

Jezebel nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I got that part…"

"So we're going around to talk other people into joining us," Callie finished, pulling into the road. "We just had The Backbeat and The Blue Note recommended to us recently as places to find other musically-inclined people, so we wanted to give them a go."

Lorna chuckled. "Nice cover, champ."

"In fact," Callie said, raising her voice to distract Jezebel from Lorna's comment, "how would you like to be our first recruit?"

J.J did a double-take. "Me?"

"Why not you?"

"Why- I mean, what would I do?"

"You sing, right?"

"And damn well too," Callie added.

Jezebel blushed. "I mean, I still don't understand worth anything what's going on with you two."

Lorna looked back at her sympathetically. "To be honest, I'm not sure I know what's going on with me and Cece here." She faced forward again. "All the same, if you've managed to put up with both of us thus far I think you'll survive and hey, who knows? Maybe at some point we'll both figure out what the heck's going on."

"Oh, quiet you," Callie muttered.

J.J giggled. "All right, let's say at least for right now I'm with you guys. What kind of music would you be doing in this band?"

"So glad you asked." Callie took a hand off the wheel only briefly to fish the Battle of the Bands flyer out of her pocket and toss it at the back seat. "Read 'em and weep."

Jezebel smoothed out the colored paper, and then frowned at it. "Hey guys, call me crazy, but déjà vu."

Lorna winced. "Yeah, I kind of stole it from the bulletin board at the Triple Rock. Is that frowned upon?"

J.J snorted. "Please. Not like anyone reads the crap up there anyway." She read the print, then looked up again. "You're really planning on doing this?"

"Yeah." Callie hesitated. "Why?"

"I'm not sayin' you shouldn't, but these kinds of contests are serious." Jezebel folded the flyer and tossed it so it landed on the dashboard. "I've been dragged along to one or two of these things for, you know, chorus group field trips, and they really are the real deal. Sometimes you even catch people there who've made real names for themselves in R+B."

Callie sighed. "That's what I'm counting on."

J.J leaned forward. "You'll wanna turn there for the parking lot."

"What? There already?" Lorna sat up straighter.

"It was just two blocks, Thorn." J.J looked over Callie's shoulder. "You know anything about the regular acts here?"

Callie made a sharp left into the row of parking spaces. "Unfortunately, that would be a no."

J.J smiled. "Good. Forgive me Lord for speakin' ill of others, but it sure is good to know something someone else needs to."

"Yeah, don't I know it." Callie pulled the Monaco into a corner spot and looked back at her. "Any clue as to who we can expect on a Sunday evening in June?"

Jezebel thought. "Last time I was comin' here on a regular basis, there was two groups you could expect to see playin' there. Can't give you no names 'cause I'm terrible with 'em, but my girls and I always called 'em the family group and the brothers."

"That's real specific," Lorna grumbled.

"And who got Sunday nights?" Callie persisted.

"The brothers," J.J answered with no hesitation. "We'd only see the family group on certain afternoons, but they were getting pretty rare. Boss man was probably getting' ready to fire them anyway."

"Okay then." Callie turned off the car engine and unlocked the doors. "Let's go check out the brothers." She looked back at J.J once more. "To your memory, worth it or not?"

She shrugged. "I'd say worth it. They ain't no Lennon and McCartney, but they're worth a listen."

Lorna gave her a quizzical look as they got out. "I didn't peg you as a Beatles fan."

"I'm not." Jezebel nodded to the building. "But what's playin' inside relates just fine."

_Friday night arrives without a suitcase_

_Sunday morning creeping like a nun_

_Monday's child has learned to tie his bootlace_

_See how they ruuuuun_

_Lady Madonna_

_Baby at your breast_

_Wonders how you manage to feed the reeeeeest…_

Callie chuckled at her own late realization of the irony of J.J's Lennon-McCartney joke as the lyrics of the song reached her ears. She motioned to her comrades behind her to follow as she moved closer to the small performers' area.

"Is this them?" she heard Lorna ask J.J

"Yeah, this is them all right," J.J said. "Looks like puberty's done the lead some good since last I've been here."

"Ssh!" Callie commanded. She had her eyes on the pair analyzing and taking note of the nuances of their presence onstage, the one on keyboard in particular. The movements of his hands, arms and fingers were seemingly fluid, very near natural. The slight jerkiness Callie observed was only apparent when his part required a jump in hand position. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Lorna had seen it too."

"Catch that?" she asked.

"Yeah, kinda," Lorna confirmed, still bearing the sympathetic wince. "Little guy's sorta stiff, isn't he?"

Callie matched the wince, then shook her head. "Nah, he'll snap out of it." The stiffness was a trait she'd identified in her own percussive endeavors that she couldn't seem to get rid of. _"Beginner."_ Neutral word though it was, it always stung when it was applied to her. She looked back at the stage. This time it was the boy singing that caught her eye. On first appraisal, she decided Jezebel must have been right—he certainly seemed to be in puberty's good graces. Tall, light brown hair, and a singing voice that she hadn't heard crack yet. A singing voice that also bore a decently close resemblance to the original artist. Callie peered at them over the top of her shades, taking in the performance for a moment with the full effect of the stage lights. She had to admit, they looked good. Her eyes drifted to the keyboardist once more. Most of the stiffness had given way to enthusiasm: he and his brother both had big smiles plastered to their faces for the last song—both with the same lilt and tip of the head. Cute. Cute, but she only needed one of them. The singer was older and would get in her way. The keyboard player though, he was younger, shorter and still a little bit green, like her. As the song's last note and applause reverberated through the place, Callie nodded decisively and crossed her arms. He was the one they needed.

"What'cha thinkin' Cece?"

Callie blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the lights on the stage now fading to normal. She flicked a glance at Lorna as she reached absently into her pocket. "Go over to the counter and grab some nachos, 'kay?"

Lorna held out her hand for the money. "Sure. Are they for me?"

"No." Callie gave her a ten. "It's bait. We're catching ourselves a keyboardist. Get drinks or something for you and J.J, then come and find us."

"Okay, kid." Lorna walked away, and Callie looked back in the direction of the stage. She squinted, then delicately wiped a fleck of dust from her glasses. "I told you we were putting a group together, right Jez?"

"Yeah, you said something like that." J.J rolled her eyes. "How could I forget?"

"Well, right now, we've got you, me, and Thorn. A drummer, a singer, and a sax player. To put it bluntly, no matter how good we are we suck, and we're gonna keep on sucking until we get more people who rock." She put her hands in her pockets, clenching and unclenching sweaty handfuls of fabric. "I mean, your choir at the Triple Rock wouldn't be anything at all if you weren't just huge, right?"

"Yeah, you're right," Jezebel admitted, looking sideways at Callie. "And it might be just the air in here, but goin' back home is soundin' pretty fab right now."

Callie grimaced. "Please tell me you're kidding, J.J."

"Of course I'm kidding," said J.J, rolling her eyes. "Not like I'm goin' back home now. I'd end up whipped within an inch of my life and still walkin' down the aisle." She looked where Callie was looking. "So why the shrimp?"

"First of all, watch who you're callin' shrimp." Callie shot J.J a look. "Second, shrimps don't take up much car space, and third, he's the best performer up there. That's why we need him."

"What about the one singing?"

Callie snorted. "Please. I can smell a prima donna a mile away. And besides, we've already got you." She clapped her on the shoulder. "You're not telling me you want a boyfriend, are you?"

J.J made an equally unattractive noise. "Hell no."

"There you go, then." Callie began to walk and motioned her to follow. "Come on, it looks like they're trying to leave."

J.J fell into step behind Callie as she plotted the intercept course. "So now what?"

"We're stopping them. Any suggestions?"

"Yeah. HEY, STOP!" J.J shouted the last two words and pointed at the two boys. The room went quiet around them.

"Was that necessary?" Callie hissed, doing her best not to blush.

J.J continued to point ahead. "You got what you wanted, Cece. They stopped. Now go and talk to them." She turned to the side. "What ch'all lookin' at?" Seeing the onlookers resume their business, she nudged Callie forward. "Go on, Cece, it's not a toenail removal."

"Not for you, Callie grumbled.

"Wow," said the taller boy as the two pairings came face-to-face. "You ladies sure know how to get attention."

Jezebel shrugged. "Just bein' up front. I'm not into the lies."

"Right…" he and the other boy looked at them uneasily. "So anyway-"

"Who are you?" the shorter one asked for him.

"Well-" Callie started.

"We're fans, of course!" Jezebel interrupted. "Big fans." She elbowed Callie in the side and Callie nodded. "You play here every Sunday evening, don't you?"

The taller boy's eyes narrowed. "We do, but I know I haven't seen you here before today."

"Well, we've seen you!" Callie let out a small breath, feeling her power of speech kicking in again. "Yes, I admit we're not every-week loyal, but you two aren't half bad!" She swallowed, fighting her stubborn dry mouth. "Especially you," she added, motioning to the shorter one. "We would love to just sit down and talk with you guys, we're in music too you know, discuss craft…"

"That's nice…" the taller one protectively took hold of the other's shoulder and glanced towards the door. "And as great as it would be to do that, I'm afraid we've got to go. Andy and I haven't eaten in twelve hours."

"Yeah, I'm hungry," Andy assertively tacked on. Callie noted anger and oppression in his tone, feelings she herself recognized all too well, and that she could use.

"Please," she heard Jezebel say, trying to stall. "Just hold on one second, we won't take up too much time-"

"Here we go, guys." Lorna approached them with the armload of food. "Sorry, the line was super long."

"No prob." Callie silently applauded her best friend's perfect timing. "You got a drink for Jezebel, right?"

"Yep." Lorna handed over one of the white Styrofoam cups. "Coke for her, Dew for me, and your nachos."

"Oh yeah." Callie frowned, putting on as convincing of a worried look as she could. "Nachos." She gave Andy a significant look. "You know, I'm really not that hungry anymore…" She saw his eyes getting bigger and knew she was winning. "Do you want them, Thorn?"

"Yes," Lorna started, dodging Callie's side jab, "but I already ate something, and I'm not in the mood for warm cheese."

"Can I have them?" Andy had inched away from his brother and was now halfway between them and him.

Lorna gave him a doubtful smile. "I thought you had to leave."

"Well, that was 'cause we were going to get food, but if it's right here, we can stay, can't we?" He edged closer to Lorna, his eyes still on the food.

"Bad idea, Andy," chided the taller one.

"It's free food, Sam," Andy snapped. "Besides, they don't want to talk to you." He carefully claimed the paper box with his prize. "You guys wanna sit down somewhere quieter?"

Callie smiled easily, lifting one shoulder. "Sure, I mean, if you wouldn't mind…"

"Whatever, no problem!" Andy greedily stuffed two cheese-covered chips in his mouth and continued, spraying a cloud of crumbs at the three girls. "We were mainly going home because of dinner, like I said, but Sam ate before we came and I have food now. We can stay and talk a little, right Sam?"

"Right." Sam looked uneasily at Callie. "Lead the way, Andy."

"Cool!" He pointed ahead of himself as he maneuvered past the three girls and towards the tables. "'Scuse me! 'Scuse me! Band and groupies coming through!"

Lorna grimaced. "Groupies? What exactly does the kid think we want?"

"He's fourteen. He doesn't actually know what professional groupies do." Sam followed his brother's path around the group and turned to face them with his arms crossed. "But I do, and you three obviously aren't groupies, so what do you want from us?"

Callie made a face. "Cut the crap, bigfoot." She brushed past him. "Never said I had any interest in you."

Lorna laughed nervously. "Excuse her. She never played nicely in school." She looked warily after her friend. "Uh, we oughtta follow them, don't you think?" Without checking for approval, she too brushed past Sam.

Jezebel looked at him. "Well, you heard the lady!"

Sam sighed, turning around. "Whatever. Let's go."

When the three of them arrived at the corner booth Andy and Callie were sitting in, they weren't noticed in the least. Callie was calmly smiling and nodding while Andy filled the silence.

"So our mom, she was dead set on us learning to play the piano. Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, all those guys. So Sam and I took lessons. I got pretty good at it, but Sam, not so much. Clumsy fingers." He stopped for a nacho. "Not just the piano either. Clumsy on pretty much everything mom and dad tried to teach him. Uncle Steve got to him and he ended up halfway decent on electric bass, but that's about it."

"Better than you," Sam argued, sliding in next to him. "And quit the showoff stuff about uncle Steve. Nobody even knows who he is."

"What's your last name?" Callie asked suddenly.

"Cropper." Andy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're a fan, you should know that."

"Right, sorry. Brainfart." Callie wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans. "By any chance, was your uncle Steve your paternal uncle?"

"What?"

"She means, is he our dad's brother," Sam explained, giving his little brother an annoyed look. He faced Callie. "And yes, Steve Cropper. I take it you're one of the few who know of him."

"He played guitar for Sam and Dave, of course I know him." Callie folded her hands. "In 'Soul Man,' when they say, "play it, Steve!" they mean him. In both the original and cover versions of the song. Totally classic."

Lorna shook her head in wonder as she sat down. "Unbelievable."

"I know, right?" Callie moved over. "We're sitting across from the protégé of a soul legend!"

"Not what I meant, and you know it," Lorna murmured.

"Still riding it as far as I can," Callie muttered back.

Sam cleared his throat. "Well thank you-"

Callie cut him off. "Once again, I'm referring to your brother. Not you." She gave Andy a pseudo-sympathetic look. "I bet you don't get that a lot, huh?"

Andy looked at her seriously. "You have no idea."

Sam put his face in his hands. "Here we go…"

"Shut up, Sam." Andy's forceful tone caught everyone off guard except for Callie. She looked down at the table to hide her victory smile.

"You always tell me that in our act we're equally famous 'cause we do equal work." Andy half-turned to look at Sam. "But you're a liar. You always lie." He looked back at Callie. "He gets all the credit for when we perform 'cause he's the singer. People always come up to him to say good job, and ask us to play other places. Not me."

"That must suck." Callie looked up, maintaining a straight face. "I didn't know singing was such a big deal."

"Hey!" Jezebel started to protest, but Lorna stood up and covered her mouth.

"What the hell?" J.J hissed.

"Watch her work," Lorna replied simply.

"It's not!" said Andy, defensiveness creeping into his voice. "It's just drawn-out talking, like in The Music Man. And Sam only does that because he can't play a real instrument."

"Well, the point is I'm not here speaking with you because of your brother." Callie smiled again. "I'm here because of you."

Andy frowned. "Why?"

"Ah! I was just getting to that." Callie looked at Lorna, then J.J, then back at Andy. "I'd like you to join our band."

"Wait, hold on." Sam stared at Callie in utter confusion. "We went through all that so you could ask my little brother to be in your band?"

"Little is a state of mind, Mr. Cropper," Callie answered smoothly. "Your level of talent is most likely considerable, but so is your brother's, and the open attitude I've been treated to in my conversation with him is not one I've witnessed thus far in you."

Sam looked at her. "So that's it? A one-way invitation?"

Callie winced. "Not quite."

"I didn't think so," Sam confirmed, undertoning smugness. "So tell me, why Andy?"

"Why not me?" Andy slid down an inch to kick Sam in the leg. "You think I can't be anything but your backup band?"

"Since when is one keyboard a whole band?" Sam snapped.

"Since shut up," Andy snapped back, turning to Callie again. "You were saying?"

Callie cleared her throat. "Well, as I was saying, we need a keyboardist." She motioned again to J.J and Lorna as she continued. "The girls and I want to put together a group to compete in the Battle of the Bands competition in a month."

"Battle of the Bands?" Andy said at the same time Sam exclaimed, "In a month?"

"We realize it's a short time," Lorna added, attempting to divert Sam's attention. "That's why we needed to speak with Andy today."

"Right," Callie said, focusing on him. "And get him to come with us and pick out the rest of the group."

"Now hold-"

"Ssh!" Callie held up a hand to silence the older brother. "So are you in?"

Andy nodded slowly. "One question."

Callie shrugged. "Sure, go ahead."

"What do you mean by me coming with you?"

Callie noted as Lorna averted her eyes and J.J began to fidget. At last, she herself told him. "Exactly what it sounds like. You come with us and be a part of our little soon-to-be-big group here. We all stuff ourselves into my car and drive places to find the rest of the band and play gigs to keep ourselves fed. We practice, and when the day comes, we play Battle of the Bands." She scratched behind her ear. "it's an experimental thing, and I get it if you say no, but I never would've asked if I didn't think there was a chance." She sighed. "So, what do you say?"

"Yes," Andy responded immediately. "Yes." He pushed the empty cardstock container away from him. "I'm not hungry anymore. Let's hit the road."

"You're insane." Sam looked first at Callie, then at everyone in the group. "All of you. You can't be serious. You can't seriously think you're even capable of getting a group together capable of getting through auditions to a Battle of the Bands in one month."

"Told ya," J.J muttered.

Sam took hold of Andy's arm. "And furthermore, you're all psycho if you think I'm going to let my brother go with you."

"Let go of me!" Andy hit Sam. "They asked me. It's my decision."

"You're fourteen," Sam stated, not letting go. "And we have no proof that these people are able to deliver, or are even legitimately musicians."

J.J flared. "What do you think we were trying to do here? Get him out to the car so we could femme gang rape him?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Not until now…"

"Well we're not!" said Callie. "No rape, just music. Hear that? Music. I'm a drummer, Lorna plays saxophone, and Jezebel's our vocalist."

"You're a drummer?" Sam chuckled. "How convenient."

"Convenient?"

Sam smirked. "If I dared you to play something on the set here in the Backbeat, you'd find something wrong with it and refuse. Just further proof you're a fake."

Callie's eyes narrowed. "You just watch who you call a fake."

"Oh, snap!" Andy shouted out.

Sam looked at her, still smiling. "Is that a challenge?"

"That's a challenge accepted." Callie leaned forward. "I can play better than your tenured stage drummer, or anyone else you're likely to find to play here at this kid-infested grease hole, and after I prove it, I'm taking your kid brother with me."

Sam leaned back, crossing his arms. "And if you don't?"

Callie frowned. "What do you mean?"

"If you drop a stick, can't keep time, get booed off the stage, general hell breaks loose. What happens then?"

Callie's face clouded the rest of the way over as she also sat back. "Then…my friends and I will leave, and we won't bother you here again."

"Not here, not outside, not at our house, which you hopefully don't know the location of."

"Whatever, deal." Callie reached out her hand for a shake. "Good?"

"Good." Sam shook on it.

"Sweet." Callie nudged Lorna to let her out of the booth. "What's the general music style in this place?"

"Classic rock," said J.J.

"It's actually pretty flexible, but yeah, like she said, classic rock." Sam put his hands in his pockets as he stood up. "Ergo, Lady Madonna."

"Cool." Callie gave Sam a sly look. "If I play it, will the in-house band back me up?"

He thought about it, then nodded. "Sure. Just tell 'em what you're doing, and they'll follow along."

She continued looking at him. "And will you sing?"

He shrugged. "Why not? I guess we're in this together in the long run anyway, so-"

"Awesome." Callie punched him on the arm and headed for the stage.

"Hey, wait up!" Sam jogged to catch up with her. "What are we doing?"

Callie picked up the drumsticks. "How's your Iron Maiden?"

Sam made a face. "Nonexistent."

"Good, 'cause we're actually doing Van Halen." Callie boosted herself onto the throne and fiddled under the seat for the height adjuster. "That sound more friendly?"

"Well yeah," Sam said, watching her with mild amusement. "So long as it's not Van Hagar."

"Van Hagar?" Callie pulled on the seat lever a little too hard, shooting her abruptly toward the ground. "Is that some kind of bad joke?"

"We all wish it was." Sam looked towards the front. "What song?"

"Hot for Teacher."

Sam whistled. "That's quite a choice."

"I know." Callie spun restlessly side to side in her seat. "Can you handle it?"

Sam gave a short laugh. "The question is, can you handle it?"

"97 percent sure." Callie twirled the stick in her right hand. "Can your in-house drummer?"

Sam thought. "I doubt it," he finally decided.

"So handling's my goal." Callie sat up and poised herself to play. "Ready?"

"Just a sec." Sam cupped his hands over his mouth and called into the audience. "Hey, Andy!"

Andy's voice floated back. "What?"

"We're doing Hot for Teacher, get up here!"

"Sweet!"

Sam turned back to Callie. "Andy and I share vocals when there's no keyboard part," he explained.

"Got it," Callie said impatiently. "Ready?"

"Whenever you are."

"Okay." She looked side to side at the in-house band that was re-convening around her. "Van Halen, Hot for Teacher, album key," she whispered to who looked to be the lead guitarist. He nodded. "Okay…" Callie repeated to herself. She closed her eyes, counted to three, and opened them. "Let's rock." She started to play. At first, the rhythms seemed unnatural to her, even after she'd added the cymbals, but when the guitar started in, she felt all the beats fall into place. As she rested for the vocal part she felt her adrenaline rise, and as Andy said into the mic, _**"What do you think the teacher's gonna look like **__**this**__** year?" **_she picked up again on one of the best drum riffs she'd ever played.

_**I think of all the education that I missed**_

_**But then my homework was never quite like this!**_

"One and two and three and four and…" Callie thought furiously to herself, fighting to keep the beat instead of speeding up.

_**I've got it bad, got it bad, got it bad**_

_**I'm hot for teacher**_

_**I've got it bad, soooooo bad-**_

_**I'm hot for teacher…**_

The applause after the song was unlike anything Callie had experienced before. Everyone on their feet, yelling, cheering, whistling, clapping their hands, all for her. She blushed, embarrassed, sitting back down. It was Sam and Andy the crowd was cheering for. _"Selfish," _she imagined Mother Mary scolding.

"_Selfish, selfish little girl. How do you expect to be liked when you think only about yourself?"_ "I helped!" she silently argued back. She stood up, brushed herself off, and followed the brothers offstage.

"That was awesome!" Andy had Callie entrapped in a bear hug almost as soon as she caught up with them. He finally let her go and turned triumphantly to his brother. "See? She's not a fake."

"I guess not." Sam shrugged, giving Callie a defeated look. "I was wrong."

Callie waved it off. "What's in the past stays there." She smirked. "Point is, I won. And I'm adding one more condition to my winnings."

Sam looked at her carefully. "I'm afraid to ask."

"Don't be." Callie pointed at him. "You come too."

"Wait. Me? With you guys?"

"But you said I was better!" Andy protested.

"You are," Callie agreed. "That's why you get shotgun when we go out people searching again and Sam gets squeezed in the middle." She looked at Sam for a moment, then back at Andy. "Go find J.J and Thorn, and I'll be there in a sec."

Sam watched his brother go. "So why the change of heart?"

Callie shrugged. "I underestimated you. Simple mistake, and I won't make it again. Showmanship."

"Showmanship?"

"Yeah. That's what you've got that I- we need." Callie started walking. "So are you coming with us?"

"Yeah, Andy and me both. But not tonight."

Callie stopped. "Why not?"

Sam chuckled. "I don't know how you and your entourage got out here, but Andy and I have parents that would freak out if we didn't come back home one night."

"Oh yeah," Callie said. "That."

"And I'm not saying I trust you," Sam said, checking his phone for the time, "but I as of now have no reason to believe you've told us anything but the truth about who you are and what you're doing."

Callie laughed. "In summary, crazy, but not a liar."

"Right." Sam continued walking and Callie followed. "So give me tonight and I'll tell the folks that I'm taking Andy for a long camping trip. I figure that's not too far from then truth, right?"

Callie giggled again. "Right."

When they got back to the group, they found Andy once again the life of the party.

"Yeah, they're really good. You guys and Callie should go and talk to them."

"Can't do anything if we can't find 'em," Lorna informed him.

Andy's face lit up. "Wait! They made business cards once…" he started going through his pockets after something. "I know I have it somewhere…got it!" He pulled out an old, folded cardstock rectangle, stained orange on the corners.

Callie squeezed into the circle next to Lorna. "Ew, what is that?"

Andy looked at her, the excitedly unfolded the card in his hand. "Their number and address!"

"Whose number and address?" Callie asked.

"Caroline and Maxwell Marini," Lorna answered her, putting emphasis on the last name.

"Andy was just braggin' on them 'cause they play here sometimes opposite him and Sam. Come from a musical family too, just like them."

"No kidding." Callie reached out her hand for the card. "Can I see that?"

"Yeah." Andy gave it to her. "You can keep it if you want. I'll ask Max for another the next time we see them."

"Cool." Callie stashed the card in her pocket. "It was an honor jamming with you guys."

"Any time." Sam gave them a small wave. "We'll meet you here tomorrow at nine."

"Nine." Lorna took out a pen and wrote it on herself. "Great. Let's roll." She took hold of Callie's sleeve. "You can gawk at the next-generation Blue Lous when we get to their house. Now let's go."

"43 to HQ, 43 to HQ, copy?"

The commissioner sighed impatiently as she heard the buzz of the walkie-talkie on the corner of her desk. She smiled apologetically at the worried couple facing her. "Excuse me." She picked up the device and turned her back. "43, copy damnit, what do you want?"

"We got plates on that robbery downtown and we can't reach our division. Wanted to know if you could connect us."

"What do I sound like to you, Queen of the Airwaves?"

"But Madam Commissioner-"

"Just keep trying your base of operations 43, I'm working a case for the first time in years and I'm busy!" She turned around, slammed the walkie-talkie down on her desk, collected herself, and then calmly looked back at her guests. "Sorry about that. Now, Mr. and Mrs. James, where were we?"

"You were on finding our daughter," Mrs. James forcefully reminded her.

"Yes, your daughter, Jezebel." The commissioner looked back at her notes. "Seventeen years of age, average height, dark skin, black hair." She looked up at the parents. "Forgive me for saying so, but this is a rather unmarked missing child case. I can't imagine why this was brought to me."

"Now you hush your mouth!" Mrs. James stood up and pointed her finger right between the lady commissioner's eyes. "She's our daughter, and we was told to come to you, so you find her!"

"Mrs. James, please." The commissioner was taken aback. "I never meant for a moment to insult you. I only meant that my current investigations are very specific." She paused. "When the representative at the front desk interviewed you before he sent you to me, were there any points he asked you to clarify? Anything he reacted to?"

Mr. James spoke up. "There was one thing." He swallowed. "Right before we noticed she was gone, I thought I saw a police car parked out front."

She stopped writing. "A police car?"

"A real old one, not like the squad cars you usually see. The guy up front asked us if we were really sure."

"And are you?"

"Yes."

"Then I believe you." The commissioner pulled her case file out of a drawer and flipped it open. On top were the Saint Helen's photos of Callie and Lorna. "Do you recognize either of these two?"

"They was in church with us this mornin'." Mrs. James tapped the picture of Lorna. "Cleophus took a shine to them, her especially. Went on and on about them havin' 'soul'."

The lady commissioner pondered what she'd been told, then asked a final question. "Mrs. James, did Jezebel have any musical talent?"

"She sang like a little angel, but I don't see what that's got to do with-"

"Thank you, that will be all." She closed the file and began to stack her papers. When she was sure the Jameses were out of earshot, she picked up the phone again. "Force operator? Get me Maury Sline, and make sure he knows there's booking involved."

"3217 East eighteenth," Callie repeated, reading the print on the card.

"Good, we got it right!" Lorna rolled down her window and leaned her head all the way out. "Nice little building they've got, too."

J.J got out of the backseat to look. "Not bad."

"Not bad?" Lorna exclaimed, also getting out. "Next to where Callie and I come from, this place could be Shangri-La!" She thought about it. "Except, you know, no Brendan Fraser dying next to his son and two beautiful Asian women who can't die."

"So are we done looking at the outside, or do you two need a moment?

Lorna rolled her eyes. "It's all right, Callie. We can go in now. She went over to the left side of the car to intercept her as she got out. "I was just telling J.J how this place makes Saint Helen's look like a dump."

Now it was Callie's turn to roll her eyes. "The world makes Saint Helen's look like a dump." She looked wistfully up at the tall apartment complex. "But you're right." She looked at Lorna. "What should we say if we have to buzz ourselves up?"

Lorna looked worried. "We didn't think about that, did we?"

Jezebel made a face. "Are you kiddin' me? Buzzing ourselves up? In a fancy place like this?" She shook her head. "We're gonna have to go in and talk to a real person."

"Real people, joy." Callie sighed and stepped over the curb. "Well, since we came all the way here…"

"Let's go." Lorna led the pack up to the glass front door and opened it. Inside the building, the walls were a creamy beige and the floors were a golden yellow, every surface adorned with a texture or work of art.

J.J looked around, tensing. "Where the heck are we, trapped in 50's reception office land?"

"Chill out," said Callie, stepping to the front of the group. "The newest additions to our band might live upstairs somewhere, and anyone who can afford to put themselves up here is useful for resources at the very least." She caught sight of the end of the hall and picked up her pace. The lady behind the reception desk looked up pleasantly as they approached.

"Hello, girls. May I help you?"

Callie cleared her throat. "Do the Marinis live here?"

The receptionist frowned. "Who said that?"

"I did." Callie jumped and propped herself up on the desk surface, lifting her toes a good inch off the floor. "Is one of these apartments occupied by Caroline and Maxwell Marini?"

"Why yes, I believe I know those names." The lady went to her computer and pulled up an occupants list. "Here we are!" she said after a moment. "Suite 5A. I'll give them a ring and let them know they're about to have company!"

J.J frowned. "But-"

"Thanks, ma'am!" Lorna lifted Callie down and began to walk away.

"What just happened?" J.J asked as they stopped to call the elevator.

"To borrow Callie's ethos here, we won. Don't question it." The elevator nearest them dinged and they climbed in. "But now that I think of it, it may not be a good thing that they know we're coming."

Callie laughed. "I can already picture them climbing out the window." She looked around frantically. "Uh…we're not home! Come back in five minutes!"

"Oh, come on, Cece," said Jezebel, scolding her over the fresh peal of laughter. "Granted we don't know anything about them, but I don't think they'd do that to us."

Callie rolled her eyes. "I was joking J.J, okay?"

Jezebel raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

Callie held her ground for a moment, then sighed, defeated. "Not really."

"She's got a point though, Callie." Lorna looked at her seriously. "They get along with Sam and Andy. Sam seems like a pretty ambiguous, easygoing guy to me, but the little guy's different. Anyone who can endure a friendship with that child has got to have patience cubed."

"That's true."

"Plus…" Lorna leaned down close to Callie's ear. "You wouldn't want to miss this puzzle piece in your next-generation game."

"Don't I know it," Callie murmured back. "Talk about luck."

The elevator stopped and its doors opened on the fifth floor. Callie straightened her hat and took a deep breath.

"Come on," J.J urged, nudging her forward. "Out you go…"

Callie stepped hesitantly out of the elevator, then forward to the floor directory. "Suites A through M to the right." She turned the corner, and there it was at the end of the hall. 5A. Slowly once more, she went forward. "Here goes nothing." She knocked.

"One second!" came a female voice from behind the door. There was the sound of quick footsteps, and then a squeak as the door opened a crack and a pair of big brown eyes and a shock of red hair peeked though.

"Company, I presume?" asked the same voice.

Callie nodded. "Yes ma'am."

The door opened wider and their greeter stepped out. She had a seemingly delicate appearance— pale skin, doll-like hands, smallish features, and short, carefully combed ginger locks. She stood in front of her door for a moment, looking them over. After a minute or so had passed, she took three paces forward, standing nose to nose with Lorna.

Lorna flinched away. "Hey, what's you deal?"

The girl took a step back, looking up at the ceiling. "Well, I wouldn't exactly call you tall by my standards, but I suppose most people are, compared to Mrs. Lee." She walked backwards to her door, pushing it all the way open. "Come in."

"Thanks…" said J.J, taking up the rear as they filed inside.

"Bear! Is that company?"

The girl sighed with a smile as she closed the door. "Yes it is, Max."

"How tall is the tall one?"

"Our height," she answered, following the voice to the living area.

"Ha! It figures. We never meet any real tall people. Only posers."

Lorna made a confused face. "Ouch?"

"Nothing personal," 'Bear' said quickly. "We just feel it's a letdown to us that by the outside world's standards, we're only slightly above average in that respect, while in our apartment building run by an old 5'4 lady, we're considered giants."

"And Mrs. Lee is the lady we met downstairs?" Callie asked, leaning on the arm of their L-couch.

Their hostess tapped the side of her head. "Context clues!" She noticed Callie's stance. "Please, all of you, sit down."

"Thanks," J.J repeated, still looking and feeling uncomfortable.

"So…yeah, wow." Callie sat forward, looking dubiously around her. If the rest of the building had been a 50's waiting room, the group had just entered the 60's and hippie paradise. The walls and floors were frog green, accented by the psychedelic posters and spinning wind catchers hanging from the ceiling, and all the furniture, even the couch, was tie-dyed.

"This is a trippy place you've got here," she said at last.

The boy sprawled out across from them in a beanbag chair sat up and smiled. "How groovy of you to say so." He leaned forward, putting his arm out. "Hi, I'm Max."

Callie half-smiled back, shaking his hand. "I'm Calloway."

He tipped his head to the side. "Nice name. Where'd you get it?"

"My dad."

"That's cool." He let go of her hand, looking over at J.J and Lorna. "And look! More people! Care Bear, we have to know them!"

She smiled and shook her head. "Forgive Max, he's got the social tools and skills of a five year-old but still somehow manages to get away with it. I'm Caroline, or 'Care Bear' if you like, and this, as you all know by now, is my twin brother Max."

"Twin brother?" Callie took off her shades. "Do people recognize you two as twins, or is it more of, like, a fun fact that you have to point out?"

Caroline considered. "More of a fun fact, I'd say. It'd probably be easier to tell if Max was ginger or I was blond. But we live with it."

Max scooted forward in the beanbag. "So the rest of you: who are you?"

J.J held up her hand. "I'm Jezebel."

"And I'm Lorna," Lorna added. "Of course, the three of us also go by the rock star names Thorn, J.J, and Cece."

Max laughed quietly. "Rock star names, good one."

"What time is it?" Caroline asked abruptly.

Lorna whipped out her phone. "7:05."

"Tea time." She stood up and brushed herself off. "Anyone else want something while I'm up? Water? Milk? Chocolate milk? Leftover Chinese food?"

"Oh God yes, if you wouldn't mind," said J.J gratefully. "The leftover Chinese food. I don't think any of us ate lunch."

"Sure, no problem." Caroline hurried off towards their kitchen area, light pink silk kimono billowing behind her. "We don't have a lot left, but we're happy to share."

Max gave the group a concerned look. "Why didn't you eat lunch?"

Callie winced. "We were busy. We had so much to do…"

"Shopping," said J.J.

"Driving," said Lorna.

"Official business," Callie finished.

"Speaking of which…" Caroline called over the noise of the microwave, "how did you know to ask for us at the front desk?"

"Pardon?" said Callie.

"Yeah, when Mrs. Lee called us, she said that a black girl, a tall, blond girl and a tiny she-didn't-know-what asked for us and she sent them up." Max looked at Callie. "But you're a girl, aren't you?"

"Yep." She took off her hat, letting her braids fall out.

"Good, that's what I was thinking."

"So how do you know us?" Caroline stopped the microwave and removed the white cardboard boxes. "Or of us." She went into a drawer for forks. "Did someone send you?"

"Sam and Andy Cropper."

Caroline laughed. "Oh, them."

Max chuckled. "It was Andy, right?"

"Right-o." Callie pulled out the business card to show to them.

Max guffawed. "I remember making those! Care Bear, come and see this!"

"What is it?" Caroline, balancing three paper boxes and respective forks in her arms, placed one in front of each guest and turned her attention to the card. "Oh my gosh, we made those almost two years ago."

"And the kid kept it all this time." Max sighed. "Cute kid."

"And Sam's sort of cute too, don't you think?" Caroline sat down and sipped her tea. "But it would never work out between us. Max and I are going away to college in the fall, we own this apartment and we have jobs, and Sam's going to school in state and still lives with his parents."

"You own the apartment?" Callie asked.

"Seriously, kid?" said Lorna. "That's what you got out of that?"

"Yes, we do," said Caroline, addressing Callie. "Our parents gave us the down payment for our birthday, and we've invested enough in the building since then to last us a good while." She sipped her tea again. "I'm sorry, we went and changed the subject on you again. Why'd Sam and Andy send you to us?"

Callie chewed her final bite of crab rangoon and swallowed. "Here's the thing." She folded her hands and shifted in her seat to look between the siblings. "We want to ask you to be in our band." Caroline opened her mouth to speak, but Callie stopped her. "Just hear me out. We obviously only just met, but I see you as very cool, together, and above all very patient people." She kicked Lorna, who was snickering. "The group is the brainchild of Thorn and myself. We picked up J.J early on, and Sam and Andy have also agreed to join us. In a month, we hope to have an R+B group worthy of competing in the Battle of the Bands competition at the Chicago House of Blues."

"We're in," said Caroline.

"We- what?" said Callie, dumbfounded.

"We're in," Caroline repeated. "At least, I am. Max?"

"Nah, me too. We." Max sat up attentively. "Sounds enjoyable."

"Just like that?" said Jezebel, her mouth full of lo mein.

"What have we got to lose?" Max laid back in his chair again.

Caroline shrugged. "He's right. We've had nothing better to do so far this summer, and we've been dying to do a Battle of the Bands ever since we saw School of Rock."

Max put his arm up in the air. "I pledge allegiance, to the band."

Callie grinned. "Awesome! We've got at least half the people we need now."

Lorna closed her box. "So, what instruments do you guys play?"

"All of them," Max deadpanned.

Callie raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"By the loosest definition, it's still not all the way true," Caroline said. "Our dad was a big-time musician, so we were introduced to the concept when we were very little. I wasn't very good on anything but cowbell at that point, but Max could do anything he picked up." She looked ruefully at her brother. "We almost got him into this pretentious music conservatory school in New York, but he bombed his interview because he 'didn't demonstrate a good work ethic.'" She sighed. "But anyway, since then, I've picked up the electric bass, and Max hasn't really settled on a legitimate-"

"Since when is the harmonica illegitimate?" Max asked Caroline, pulling his out of his pocket. "Since when aren't pianos and kazoos allowed to have babies? Love is love."

"He does this all the time," Caroline muttered.

"No, hold on a sec." Callie looked at Max. "Are you any good on that thing?"

Max smiled. "Allow me to demonstrate." He cleared his throat and held the harmonica in his lap. _**"Turn on the light!"**_ he sang. _**"Let it shine on me! Turn on your loooooove light! Let it shine on me! Let it shine, shine, shine, let it shiiiiiiine, aaaow!"**_ Then he lifted up his harmonica and began to play. Caroline seemed embarrassed by her brother, but at that moment, she fully believed that Max could play any instrument he picked up. He was good. Everyone applauded loudly when he was finished.

"O-kay!" Callie said, even more cheerful than before. "We now have a new bass and harmonica slash vocalist!"

"Not to blatantly quote Sam Cropper, but, wait. Hoooold on a second." J.J waited for the laughter to die down. "Care Bear hasn't played for us."

"True," Callie allowed. "But neither has Lorna and you haven't sung for us by yourself."

J.J stood up. "Trio. Right now."

"Sit down, J.J," Lorna drawled.

"Besides, that may not have been a good idea anyway," Caroline added. "Most of the other building residents are old people getting ready for bed." She stood up, heading for another corner of the apartment. "On that subject, you three are spending the night."

J.J frowned. "But we didn't ask-"

"Roll with it," Lorna growled.

"You're saving us from our boredom for 30 days and were most likely going to ask us anyway," Max pointed out. "It's the least we can do."

"Here you guys go…" Caroline returned with a giant stack of blankets. "You can set up anywhere except for Max's room."

"Obvious exception," Max agreed.

"Thank you," Callie said. "I'm so sorry about our imposition."

"Chinese leftovers and extra blankets aren't an imposition." Caroline looked at the wall clock. "And sorry to ditch you guys like this, but Max and I play late nights at a club a few blocks from here, so we should be going." She shed her kimono and replaced it with a sparkly jacket from the coat hook. "You coming, Max?"

Max had gone into a corridor and had come back with a large case. "You almost forgot your instrument, Bear!"

"Oh, thanks." She took it. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Bye!" she called one last time as they left.

J.J shook her head. "Crazy." She stood up. "Excuse me, I'm gonna find a toilet."

"Lorna?" Callie asked after Jezebel had left.

"Yes?"

"My box is in the car, right?"

"Sure is, kiddo."

"Under the seat?"  
>"Is that where you left it?"<p>

"Yeah."

"Then it's there."

"Good." Callie flopped to the side. "Dibs on the couch."

"Great." Lorna stood up and looked around. Finally, she took a blanket from the top of the stack and nested herself in Max's Lovesac. "Good night, Callie."

"Night, Lorn." Callie took off her hat and coat and put them on the ground. "Soon Dad, soon." Satisfied, she closed her eyes and fell into a sound sleep.


	6. Blue Notes and Magic Tones

"Be strong."

Dang. It was this thing again. Callie was lying on her back in a giant glass box, lights from the ceiling shining down with an intensity that made her feel very small.

"You gotta be strong now, kid."

The voice was coming from behind the window in the wall she was facing. She knew it would do her no good, but she looked anyway. The window was dark, too dark for her to see anything on the other side.

"_Stupid voice,_" she thought, "_stupid window_." She knew the setup by heart. Voice, box, lights, voice, window, dark, voice, burn. The dream had been haunting her on and off for a year now, but she'd only told two people: Lorna of course, and Sister Marguerite, who had told her the voice speaking to her was God, urging her to stay away from the dark.

"_But the voice __comes__ from the dark!_" she thought, waiting for its last words.

"Stay away…too many have died."

And then the lights went brighter, brighter, brighter, until…

"AAH!" she yelped as a sharp poke startled her awake.

"Rise and shine," said Lorna, holding out a plate to her. "Care Bear cooked us breakfast. Before she stepped out to pick up the orange juice, we made a bet about whether you or Max would wake up first."

"That's nice." Callie raised herself up on her elbows. "Who were you rooting for?"

"You, of course."

"Just what I wanted to hear, thanks." Callie took the plate. "Is that why you woke me up?"

"No, I woke you up because you were having a nightmare." She grimaced at Callie, who was eating the scrambled eggs with her fingers. "Do you need a fork?"

"Nope." She tipped the plate towards her mouth and swallowed the rest.

Lorna rolled her eyes. "You should be fat."

"I know, but I'm not. Lucky me." She carefully set her plate on the coffee table and sat the rest of the way up. "I was having the lights dream again."

"Oh God, it's back?" Lorna frowned. "And it was the same as usual?"

"To the letter."

"Hm." Lorna shrugged helplessly. "Maybe it's the Penguin summoning you home."

Callie shrugged. "Or the Chinese food." Her stomach growled in recognition.

The toilet flushed at the end of the corridor, and a rather disgruntled J.J emerged. "I forgot how much Oriental food hates me," she said.

"Don't worry," Callie said, standing up and stretching. "Caroline's coming back soon with some orange juice."

"Oh, good." J.J yawned. "What time is it?"

"I dunno, I'll check." Lorna crawled back over to her nest of blankets and picked up her phone. "According to the nearest AT&T satellite cell tower, the current time is approximately- oh shit." She stuffed her phone in her pocket and ran for the bathroom.

"Wait, what time is it?" Jezebel rubbed her eyes. "I'm not awake, I can't read clocks in the morning."

Callie looked up at the wall clock expecting bad news, and ended up with a mini heart-attack anyway. "8:45. It's 8:45. We're supposed to be meeting Sam and Andy in fifteen minutes!"

"Shit!" Jezebel slapped her forehead. "How's that even gonna be possible?"

"Hey guys, I'm back!" Caroline entered the apartment once again, wielding her Blackberry and a carton of OJ. "And I got this text from Sam that says he and Andy are going to be running late?"

"Praise God," said J.J, not moving.

"So what's the deal?" Caroline was asking them. "Are they coming here, or are we supposed to be on our way to meet them?"

"The second one," Callie admitted.

"Say no more." Caroline put the carton and her phone down on the countertop and speed-walked out of the kitchen and toward Max's room. She knocked loudly on the door. "Max! We're late!"

"That should do it," J.J mumbled.

"I wish you've told me sooner!" Care Bear called from her own bedroom.

"I'm sorry!" Callie yelled back. "I'll be better about that!"

"Likely story," Lorna whispered to J.J.

Callie stood up. "Well, I'm dressed." She bent down and picked up her hat and glasses. "Guess we should've invested in pajamas, huh?"

Lorna smiled guiltily. "Is it that obvious that we only came with one outfit apiece?"

"At least we're not still in our uniforms." Callie adjusted her shades and scooped up her jacket. "Or J.J, in your choir robe."

"Small favors." J.J held a comb out to Lorna. "I've got a weave and Cece's got braids, but you're a mess."

"Just one more minute!" The three girls turned as Caroline emerged from the hallway with Max and a small duffel in tow. "My twin just needs some citrus in him and he'll be as good as new." She hesitated, then gave Callie a concerned look. "Are your changes of clothes in your car?"

The three sighed, feeling the irony of déjà vu. "More or less," Callie answered for them, "but the 'changes of clothes' we have are, let's say, for the moment, unwearable."

"I see." Caroline nudged Max. "Good call on the extra money." She looked up at the clock. "8:52. Max, how's it going?"

Max chugged the last of his juice and slammed down his glass. "Good."

"Good, then let's go." Caroline slung the bag over her shoulder. "Follow me, musical children."

When everyone had gathered outside the apartment door, she closed and locked it. "Goodbye, old place," Care Bear said, pulling her key from the keyhole. "See you after the adventure."

"That was pretty cool…" Andy said amiably as he climbed into the back seat. "How often do two people or groups of 'em get to the same place at the exact same time?"

"We got held up in work traffic and they were late." Sam climbed in after him. "No too complicated, Einstein."

"Shut up, Sam." Andy buckled in and pulled up his knees. "It's kinda crowded back here, Cece."

Callie sighed. "Yeah, I know. Fair warning, it's gonna get a lot more crowded before we're done." She turned and faced the back. "And I expect both you and your brother to be willing to give up your seat to a lady."

"But then where would we sit?" Sam protested.

"On the car floor…?" Andy offered.

"Good boy." Callie put the car back in gear and turned to Lorna. "Directions to the Blue Note?"

"Yeah." She squinted at the tiny, downloaded print. "Looks like once we're out of this lot, a right and two lefts and it's a straight 5-block shoot down."

"The Blue Note?" said Max. "Did you say the Blue Note?"

"Yes…" Callie answered, confused.

"That's where we play nights, isn't it Care Bear?"

"Yeah, it is." Caroline looked at Callie in the rearview mirror. "We didn't tell you that?"

"Nope, but that's good to know now." Callie backed the car out of the parking space. "Now we have an 'in'."

"Terrific." Lorna turned back to talk to the passengers. "About when's the peak time for that place, do you know?"

Sam looked at his watch. "About now, actually. The Blue Note's kind of like the Starbucks to The Backbeat's Hard Rock Café, if you know what I mean."

J.J nodded. "The Blue Note's more chill than you guys' place, but people are still packed in there."

"Right."

"Also good to know," Callie said. "Is there a dress code?"

Max laughed. "Dress code?"

Callie frowned. "Yeah, dress code. Care Bear changed into her fancy jacket before you two left last night."

"That's because I like to look fancy," said Caroline. "There's no dress code. The Blue Note is also kind of like Starbucks, like Sam said, because it's filled most of the time with college kids and their laptops. Max and I were finishing our senior year in high school when we got the gig there, so we had to take the night shift."

"The night shift," Max repeated. "Another gift from good old dad."

"Their dad's best friends with our uncle Steve," Andy piped up. "They used to play together in a band."

"True." Caroline faced forward. "I remember when we were still little, dad used to be gone for long periods of time, practicing. Then, mom would take me and Max to see him play when they came to one of those places."

"No kidding," said Lorna, raising an eyebrow at Callie.

"Speaking of frequenters at the Blue Note," Callie interjected, "who was that waiting for you and Max downstairs?"

Caroline smiled, almost laughing. "That was Minnie."

"Minnie?"

"Her real name's Marni, but she's short and cute and has this really perky voice and disposition, so Max and I call her Minnie Mouse."

"That's sweet." J.J smiled. "Does she usually drop in on you like that?"

"Not usually, just once in a while." Care Bear's voice had gotten more serious. "We're her friends. If you just met her, you wouldn't be able to tell right away, but her situation isn't the best at home."

"That's not good." Sam looked down. "Divorce?"

"Messy divorce," Caroline corrected. "The way Minnie tells it, her mom got bored and tired waiting back home for her dad all the time, so she got a new boyfriend, grabbed Minnie, and dropped the divorce papers in the mail as they skipped town." She sighed. "I feel guilty just thinking about it. I hope she won't be upset I just parroted her sob story to you guys."

"We promise, we won't tell a soul unless you or she says so," Andy amended quickly.

"That is horrible," Callie said, agreeing with Care Bear.

Caroline nodded. "Especially since she and her dad were super close."

"What does her dad do?" Callie asked, turning a corner. "I mean, what's his job that keeps him away from her and her mom?"

"He's a musician, just like Max's and my dad, and Andy and Sam's dad's brother."

Max chuckled. "We should start a paternal musical genes club."

"More of a performer actually," Care Bear said. "He sings. He's pretty famous in some parts of the country, but a lot of people still probably haven't heard of him."

Callie shrugged. "Try me."

"Yeah," Andy agreed. "She knew who uncle Steve was, so she'll probably know this Minnie person's famous dad."

"His name is Mac. Mac McTeer."

Her foot already on the brake for the stop sign, in her jolt of excitement, Callie slammed it down, making everyone in the car jerk forward.

"Told you she'd know him," Andy said.

Callie laughed nervously. "Stop sign, nothing to fear." She put her foot back on the gas, also a little too hard, pressing everyone back into their seats.

Lorna gripped the door handle. "Callie, I thought I was telling you this before. There's this new thing that people do, it's called not killing everyone in the car they're driving!"

"Oh hush," Callie chided her friend, dismissing the comment.

"So you know who Mac McTeer is?" Max asked her, refreshing the topic.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact." Callie made the second left. "I got pretty good at the R+B stuff at Saint Helen's in case you all were wondering. I myself wonder if hatred of the genre itself is part of giving yourself to the holy church."

"What's Saint Helen's?" Andy asked loudly.

Caroline frowned. "There might be more than one, but the Saint Helen's I know is a Catholic boarding school and orphanage."

"Oh my God, are you two orphans?" Andy asked Callie and Lorna in the same loud voice.

"Dude, chill out." Sam yanked his brother backward. "Don't be stupid." The car was silent for a split second before he spoke again. "Holy shit, you are, aren't you?"

"Mac McTeer!" Callie said, talking over him. "Started out as a bar owner before being discovered, now sings solo and fronts jazz, soul, rhythm and blues and blues combos alike, ranging from-"

"Yeah, we're orphans." Lorna stopped Callie, knowing the question couldn't be avoided. "We were raised in the same place since we were babies. My folks just abandoned me and might still be out there somewhere, but Callie's parents really are dead."

The car was silent again.

"Oh my God…" J.J said.

"Who called it?" Andy shouted out. "Who called it? I did! I called it!"

"I am so sorry," she continued. "I had no idea."

"Good." Callie looked in the rearview mirror. "We don't want your sympathy for our shitty childhoods, do we Lorn?"

"Wouldn't particularly care for it, no." Lorna put her feet up on the dashboard.

"Can I ask you a question?" asked Max.

Callie sighed. "Fire away."

"Was this shitty childhood you speak of more or less equivalent to an unfriendly version of Madeline? Or was it more like a religious Annie?"

The passengers of the car all shared a chuckle before Callie answered. "Madeline, I'd say. But in our ugly school uniforms on the outings, not those French blue designer coats."

"I always wanted one of those as a kid…" Caroline mused.

"Anybody know who's on tap to perform?" Callie asked the group.

"Sadly, no." Max looked contemplatively ahead. "The day and night performers are like citizens of two separate universes."

"Fair enough. Then we'll have to be pleasantly surprised." She glanced sideways at Lorna. "Is this our last stretch?"

"Should be." She pointed ahead. "I think I see something blue down there-a-ways."

Jezebel leaned forward to see for herself. "Well, ain't that nice. Painted it up new 'n' everything."

Lorna looked back at her. "So that's the place?"

"Unless you see a place across the street with a billboard that says, 'Ha ha, made you look'." Andy smiled with satisfaction at his joke, then pouted in disappointment. "That totally sounded more awesome in my head."

"Keep you day job, kid," said Callie as she turned left into the lot outside the Blue Note. "Now," she said as she stopped the car, "we are soliciting this fine music establishment for professional purposes and professional purposes only."

"Fine music establishment…?" muttered Jezebel.

Lorna rolled her eyes. "Professional?"

"As it stands," Callie continued, "we are lacking in our horns, and are in need of a regular guitarist." She looked at Caroline. "I'm sure you've got mad skills, but you can't just go at it alone."

"No, I know that." Caroline half-smiled. "Playing bass is like playing jug if you're a hillbilly. It sounds interesting along with everything else, but you look pretty funny playing all by your lonesome."

"True that," said Max, also smiling.

"Shut up." His twin elbowed him in the side.

Callie pulled the key from the ignition. "Our mission is to expand the band." She turned and looked at the rest of the group. "We all ready?"

"Let's go," J.J responded, not waiting for another invitation. She unbuckled herself and crawled over the twins' laps to get out, and somewhat more gracefully swung her legs out of the doorjamb to stand up. "Come on, what'chall waitin' for?"

"And that's why she's out third musketeer, isn't it?" Lorna asked Callie, opening her side door.

"Happy accident," Callie responded pleasantly as she watched the rest of them exit the car. "But yeah, I guess it is."

"Wow, smells good in here!"

"Ssh!" Caroline put a finger to her lips. "People are studying."

"Sorry!" Andy whispered. "It smells like coffee."

Jezebel rolled her eyes. "What'd you think it would smell like, fried chicken?"

"Just saying," Andy snapped. "What's your problem?"

"My problem is that I hacked up my dinner last night, I'm hungry, and your voice is hurting my head."

"Care Bear, look! There's Willie!" Max excitedly pointed to a man in a suit standing in the far corner. "Hi Willie! Bear, we should go say hi."

Sam squinted to see who Max was looking at. "Is that your boss?"

Caroline nodded. "Yup, that's him, and I think he already sees us." She waved in the direction of the corner. "See, he waved back. He sees us."

Lorna nudged Callie. "Think they're between sets?"

Callie gave a distracted shrug, still devoting half her attention to the other conversation loop. "Probably. Why?"

" 'Cause you know that performance area that people are supposed to be, you know, performing in? There's nobody there."

Callie turned to see. "Well, that's weird." She frowned for a minute, then shrugged. "They're probably not even started yet. I know if I had a gig playing music starting at nine in the morning I'd be there early. 'Course that's probably just me."

"WILLIE!" Max called out even louder. "HI!"

Caroline rolled her eyes. "There he goes."

Lorna turned to her. "Where is he going?"

"He's not going to calm down until we go over there and introduce you to our boss."

"_**There he gooooooooes**_," Andy sang.

"So why's that a problem?" asked Jezebel. "Heck, we're not shy, are we? Let's meet the guy!"

Caroline winced. "About that, see, we haven't told him yet that we're-"

"Told me what, chillen?"

While the group had been talking, "Willie" had come to them. He smiled, straightening his black silk tie and adjusting his leather belt. "Caroline, you know if you got something to say you can let it go…"

Care Bear smiled nervously. "Hey there, Willie. As you can see, we brought some guests."

"Well ain't that nice!" He swept a glance across them. "So why's your sister so worried, Max?" He patted him on the shoulder. "If it's bad news, I don't have to hear it now y'understand. You two're comin' back to play tonight, right?"

"Ha! He made a rhyme!" shouted Andy.

"Ssh!" Sam hissed.

"That's the thing…" Caroline started.

"We've come partially to tell you that we're taking the month off." Max casually ran a hand through his hair. "The head member of our small entourage has asked us to join their band."

"I see." Willie looked at the group again, now skeptically. "Did you inform this entourage of yours that you had a job?"

"Man, you sound like my mother." Max laughed. "Besides, you pay us per gig. You said we could take time off when we needed."

"Yeah, sure, but a month…" Willie gave a low whistle. "You and your sister might be the best musicians the Blue Note's ever played stage and host to, 'least since I've been here, but that's still sayin' something."

"Well, Willie…" Max authoritatively put his arm around his boss' shoulder. "The fact is, the ringleader of this fine group made us an offer we couldn't refuse."

"Really." Willie surveyed the group a third time, then addressed them. "So who's your boss?"

Callie stepped out from behind Lorna's shoulder. "That would be me."

Willie blinked. "Come again?"

"But I'm not a boss per se, at least not in the way you're thinking of, sir. I'm a musician." She adjusted her shades. "And I'm putting a band together."

"Oh Dear Lord Almighty." Willie turned nearly as gray as his hair. "Honey, if this whole thing's a joke, you best tell me now."

"Why would it be a joke?" Callie tipped her head to the side. "Do I remind you of someone?"

"Sure do. Someone I haven't seen in years." Willie pulled a cloth from his pocket to mop his brow. "How is he?"

"How's who?"

"You know who."

Andy tapped Lorna on the arm. "I'm lost. Who are they talking about?"

"Don't know," Lorna fibbed.

Callie crossed her arms. "I'll let you know when I find him."

"Find him?"

"That's right." Callie tossed a glance over her shoulder. "That's why I got backup." She looked back at Willie, then pointed behind her and to the right. "Now as it seems your morning band has finally arrived, I'll leave you to it." She tipped her hat. "Sir."

He nodded. "Thanks…"

"Good seein' ya, Willie," said Max, holding up a hand as he followed the group.

"You too, Max," Willie acknowledged with a tentative smile.

As soon as they had gotten out of earshot, Lorna leaned over to her friend. "Think that was safe?"

Callie gave her a 'look.' "Sure. Otherwise I wouldn't have done it."

"I still don't know what you guys are talking about!" Andy complained.

Lorna smirked. "Insecure much, Cropper progeny?"

Sam took his little brother by the shoulder. "Come on, leave them alone for a second." He addressed Lorna. "Come find us when you've gotten whatever you need to talked out. We're all going to sit together on the other end."

"Will do." Lorna turned back to Callie. "Well?"

"Well what?" Callie put her hands on her hips. "Do you have a problem with the way I'm handling things?"

"Problem, not exactly, concern, yes." Lorna looked back over her shoulder at Willie. "if you're so adamant about keeping yourself a secret from the rest of the band, what was that little creep show your put on back there for Max and Care Bear's boss?"

"Care Bear…" Callie mused. "Seems like all the nicknames are catching on better than we thought, eh?"

"Callie," Lorna warned.

"Don't worry, Thorn," Callie said. "I knew what I was doing back there."

Lorna grimaced. "You sure?"

"Yeah." Callie cast another look over her shoulder. "They said his name was Willie? If he knew who I looked like, there's pretty much only one Willie it could be."

"Willie 'Too Big' Hall," Lorna recited blandly. "Ladies and gentlemen, the dumb and suspiciously good luck of Callie C. Blues." Lorna thought for a moment, and then frowned. "But isn't he sort of dangerous?"

"How do you mean?" Callie leaned around her to see the stage.

Lorna sidestepped, re-blocking her friend's view. "Not that the 'offer we couldn't refuse' line wasn't a giveaway, but we know that this guy's got mob ties going back probably since we were babies."

"Oh yeah." Callie chuckled. "Back since he was working for what's-his-face at that strip club bar place-" she stopped. "…that got blown up." She gave a slow, heavy sigh. "Yeah, I see what you're saying. But I've got it under control." She moved past Lorna again. "Looks like the kind of gig Max and Care Bear've been doing. House band with add-ons." She took off her sunglasses and got her eyes adjusted to the indoor light. "Call me crazy Lorn, but I think the add-ons are all family."

Lorna smiled as she turned around. "Oh Callie, you know I don't pass judgment on mental health without making sure for myself…though I have my doubts about her being family…or him, one of those two on the left who were sucking face a second ago."

"Right, makes sense. Probably just girlfriend then." Callie surveyed the performers' area once more: the house band had been set and waiting, and appeared only just now to be taking action—listening to orders from the three featured add-ons, she guessed two brothers close in age and a girlfriend of the slightly shorter one. Callie also noted that the girlfriend figure was the only one of the group not dressed in semi-casual attire. She sashayed across the stage to the microphone in six-inch hells, an almost-too-small pink tube top barely offset by her jean jacket, and a black miniskirt.

"What's the deal with her?" Lorna muttered, speaking Callie's thoughts aloud. "Does she want the whole world to see her business? She's already got a boyfriend."

"Ssh!" Callie commanded.

Lorna winced. "You're not thinking of adding her, are you?"

Callie shook her head. "Not her." She nodded in the direction of the house band. "Take a look at their alto saxophonist, though."

"The pretty, shy, demure-looking one?" Lorna nodded thoughtfully. "Reasonable choice."

Callie lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug. "We'll have to hear her play first of course…"

"Of course, given." Lorna quickly glanced to the side, locating their entourage. "But do you think we could do it from over there?"

"Over where?"

Lorna rolled her eyes. "Over where our people are."

Callie blinked, then grinned. "Right, yeah, totally! Groovy."

Lorna gave her friend a concerned look. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." Callie started ahead of her towards the table. "It's just that dream. Always messes me up in the head."

"There they are! Hey guys, over here!" Andy's voice rang out as he flagged them down. As they approached, he scooted farther into their booth. "You can sit by me!"

"Not that they'd want to," his older brother commented, also making room on his end.

"Oh, grow up you two." Lorna sat next to Sam. "If it's anything to the rest of you, we've picked our next victim, so we should be out of here shortly after the first set."

"Awesome!" Andy piped up again. "Who're we getting?"

"Hush your big mouth." J.J leaned across Andy to Callie. "Go ahead and tell me, I ain't no PSA system."

Callie ignored both of them, leaning forward to talk to Care Bear and Max. "The girl who plays alto sax, what's her name?"

"That's Olivia," Max informed her.

"Oh, Olivia!" Care Bear clasped her hands. "I love her. She's so sweet."

Callie folded her own hands. "In general, or just to you and Max?"

"No, in general," Caroline assured them. "She's just hard to read 'cause she's quiet all the time."

"How's her playing?" Lorna asked.

"Same answer as the first question," Max said with a grin. "Sweet."

"He's right," said Caroline. "Olivia's got real talent. If Willie would just let her solo up there a night or two, she could really get some good attention. But-"

"She's got a giant chip on her shoulder," Max finished, nodding sadly along with his twin.

Sam frowned. "What's that?"

"Their shadows to get out of, of course!" Andy indicated the threesome onstage testing the microphones.

Max smiled. "Nice catch, my friend."

Callie regarded the group onstage again. "So what are we dealing with there, oppressive hired singers?"

"Even more ironic than that." Caroline wept a glance around the table, settling on Sam. "Oppressive older brothers."

Sam winced. "Gee thanks."

"So when they say 'The Hall Brothers'," Max concluded, "they mean, 'The Hall Brothers and Sister'."

Jezebel raised her eyebrows. "So we're about to hear a performance from your boss' kids?" She looked warily around the table. "Y'all better clap."

"Hello and good morning Blue Note audience," one of the Hall brothers addressed the crowd through the microphone. "It's lovely to see you all here today. We'd like to get you all warmed up with a slightly newer R and B tune, one I'm sure you're all familiar with, and it will feature on lead vocals my beautiful girlfriend and soul partner Denise Watkins."

Jezebel made a rude noise. "Girlfriend and slut partner, more like."

"Thank you," Callie and Lorna chorused.

J.J smiled to herself. "And here I was, thinkin' I wouldn't fit in."

Then the music started, heavy on drums and saxophones, with the brothers both calling out like the beginning of a rap.

Callie slapped the table. "I know this song."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Who doesn't know this song?"

"Me!" said Andy, offended.

Max put his arms out. "Come on little man, it's Beyoncé!"

I look and stare so deep in your eyes

I touch on you more and more every time

When you leave I'm begging you not to go

Call your name two, three times in a row

"Lucky one of 'em's her soul partner," J.J went on, "'cause no one else wants to see that bouncin' around."

Callie let out a breath, putting her shades back on. "At least she's not ruining Olivia's playing."

"One learns to tune out the vocal and visual." Caroline was casually leaned back against the booth seat with her eyes closed. "And you're right, Cece. Olivia's the best part of that combo. She'll be a great addition to our band." She nudged her brother. "Won't she, Max?"

"Indubidably," Max agreed, his eyes also closed.  
>…Your kiss got me hoping you'll save me right now<p>

Looking so crazy in love's got me looking

Got me looking so crazy in love …

"It's over," said J.J, rubbing her face. "It's finally over."

"Right," said Lorna, swinging her legs out and standing up. "We've heard our best part. Come one Callie, we're stealing me a saxophone buddy."

"Sit down, Lorna," Callie said, slumping down. "They're not on break yet. It's not musically ethical."

"Don't care." Lorna walked around and began slowly tugging Callie out of her seat. "If you think I'm willingly sitting though another round of Beyoncé a la Denise Watkins, you're bat crap crazy."

"A-men, sister!" J.J called out.

Andy made a face. "Isn't that unholy-ish, or whatever?"

"Sacrilege," Sam corrected. 'And that performance was sacrilege to the Knowles family legacy."

"A-men," J.J repeated.

Caroline opened her eyes. "Wait Lorna, Cece's right. Sit down."

Lorna groaned. "Seriously?"

"It's not Denise up at the microphone," said Care Bear incredulously, poking Max awake. "It's…Olivia."

Max opened his eyes, then squinted. "What's she doing up there without her sax?"

"She's announcing another song by Denise," Lorna concluded, tugging Callie's arm again.

"Hold up a second," Andy snapped, looking up at Olivia then back at the rest of them. "Any of you considered that maybe she can sing too?"

"Shut up, Andy," said Sam.

Care Bear shrugged. "Maybe she can, Andy, I've just never heard her do it before. You could be right."

"Ssh!" said Max. "Whatever she can do, she's about to do it."

"Hi everyone," said Olivia into the center mic. Her voice was low-toned and somewhat quiet, but far more pleasant than Denise's. "Denise and my brothers are taking a rest from the last number, so the band and I have something special prepared for you."

The music started up again, slower and smoother this time, like an old standard. The table sat tersely, bracing themselves for the worst. Then, at last, Olivia began to sing.  
>We've been good friends so very long<p>

Oh but now I'm feelin' something much more strong

You make me feel so good

When you move like you should

Ooh, what I'm thinking can't be wrong …

"She's good," Andy whispered.

"Forgiveness," said Jezebel, putting both her hands in the air. "I forgive this coffee house, I forgive that stage, I forgive whatever they do here in the future, 'long as they let her keep singin'."

"Instrumentalist, and singer," Lorna commented, looking at Callie.

"Double-threat," Callie acknowledged, smiling. "It's settled. After this song, she comes with us."  
>And that's not all that we can do<br>Clap your hands, you got to clap your hands now

Clap your hands, you got to clap your hands  
>_<p>

"Now remember," Callie cautioned the group as they filed behind her to the stage. "When she comes off, no crowding. The last thing we want to do is freak her out."

Sam made a face. "Sure, because up and leaving her home to dink around Chicago with total strangers won't do that for us."

"I wasn't freaked out," said Andy.

"You should have been," said Sam.

Caroline smiled, shaking her head. "Guys, there's no reason to stress this. Mellow out for a sec, I'll get her over to us." She made a half-turn towards the stage and waved. "Olivia! Over here!"

"Care Bear" Olivia ran over and gave Caroline a hug. "It's so great to see you!"

"We saw you sing," Max told her. "You were out of this world."

Olivia smiled. "I'm glad you thought so, Max. But…" She hesitated, then turned back to Caroline. "Why didn't you guys tell me you were coming?"

"It was a surprise…" Max said mysteriously.  
>Caroline half-smiled. "He's right, though. We were just as unsuspecting of ourselves coming here as you were. She gestured to one side and then the other, indicating the group. "But our new bandmates insisted."<p>

"New bandmates?" Olivia looked sad. "Does that mean you're leaving the Blue Note?"

"Just for a few weeks." Care Bear looked sympathetically at Olivia. "You won't be too down without us, will you?"

Olivia shrugged, still sad. "It's like my dad always says about you and Max: you're like sunshine. You can be happy when it's cloudy outside for most days, but on a morning when you're so down you can't even think of getting up, sunshine's the only thing that'll do the trick."

Max put his hand on his heart. "Pure poetry, sister."

"And the good news is," Caroline added, "that you won't have to be without us while we're gone." The leader wants you to join us."

Olivia gave a short, flustered laugh. "What?"

"That's right." Callie stepped forward. "Olivia, in short, you're amazing. We're looking for people who can handle a stage, and that's you. Come with us."

"Wait—hold on—just…wait." Olivia took a giant step back from all of them. "Who are you?"

"That's a very good question." Callie cleared her throat. "My name is Callie, and left to right behind me are the current members of the band, Lorna Whitesnake, Caroline and Maxwell Marini, whom you know, Jezebel James, and Sam and Andy Cropper." She paused, smiling. "But since we're an R+B slash soul band, we all have funky nicknames, so I'll start again. I'm Cece, and left to right behind me are Thorn, Care Bear, Nowhere Boy, J.J, Day, and Night." She grinned at Olivia. "And for your mad skills on the alto, I think we'll call you 'Parker'."

Max nodded in agreement. "Parker Hall. You've gotta admit, that stage name kicks ass."

Olivia winced, trying not to laugh. "As ass-kicking as the name may be…" she shook her head. "I'm still confused." She looked at Callie. "What's your band called?"

"Um, you see Olivia," Lorna interrupted, sensing a break in her friend's quick thinking, "we wanted to wait until we formed a full group to name the band, so-"  
>"…we could choose a name that fit in the balance of the group harmony," Max finished.<p>

"It was Callie's idea," J.J tacked on, shooting Max a 'help me help you' look.

"Right, yeah, it was." Max nodded, patting Callie on the shoulder. "Absolute virtuoso."

"So what do you say, huh?" J.J took her turn at their subject. "Plan is, we'll pull in all the talent we can and play Battle of the Bands in a few weeks when it comes up."

"I know that's not long," Callie said, jumping back in, "but if we keep picking up people at the rate we've been going at, we may very well have a coherent group 48 to 72 hours from now."

"You could help us pick who's next!" Andy added helpfully.

"So, like J.J said, what do you say?" Callie looked at Olivia. "Are you with us?"

Olivia sighed. "I just…don't know. How am I going to explain this to my dad?"

"Care Bear, Max, you can cover for her, right?" Callie asked without turning around.

Max chuckled. "What happened to 'Nowhere Boy'? I kinda liked that."

Caroline elbowed him in the ribs. "Of course we can. Olivia, I'll go and talk to your dad."

Callie saw lurking hesitation on Olivia's face and knew she had to sway her quickly. "Olivia," she said forcefully, "you always knew that at some point in your life you'd have to take a risk. Why not now? When you sang, you showed everyone your hidden talent. Why not give them a taste of your independence?"

Olivia sighed again. "I-"

Andy stepped forward. "Come on Olivia, you don't want to stay here and keep letting your brothers and Denise steal the spotlight, do you?"

Olivia stopped mid-apology and looked at him. "You know what? No. No I don't. I'm in." She looked around, and then lowered her voice. "Just let me grab my sax and case and we'll sneak out of here, 'kay?" She turned cautiously, then nonchalantly returned to the stage to collect her instrument.

Sam put his arm around Andy's shoulder. "Didn't think I'd get to say this, but nice job little bro."

Andy grinned, pointing to Sam. "The irony's on you!"

The group shared a small laugh, awkwardly dying down as Caroline excused herself to go and talk with Willie. That's when Lorna's phone began to ring. Stomach turning and confusion surmounting, she pulled it out and shaded the screen to see her Caller ID. The number was familiar: too familiar. Her heart sank as she read the two words below the ten digits:

**Chicago Police**.

"Your 'client' isn't picking up her phone, Mr. Sline." The commissioner slammed down her receiver and stared at him with eyes like bullets. "Are you sure that what you're telling me is the whole truth?"

"I swear to you lady, what the kid said to me is all I know." Maury Sline sat in the chair in front of the commissioner's desk, sweating as if they were in the interrogation room down the hall. He wiped his hands on his freshly dry-cleaned pants. "The stuff I looked up was only to find out if she was lyin' to me, and she wasn't. She's the result of Joliet Jake Blues getting it on with some broad and forgetting to cover his tracks. Plain and simple." He let out a breath and returned the commissioner's gaze, somewhat regaining his composure. "You know ma'am, it's all really quite logical when you think about it. Kid has no parents her whole life, then she finds out who her old man was and wants to reach out to-"

"Who he was closest to, yes Mr. Sline, I'm familiar with the chain of events." The commissioner flipped through the fresh pile of accumulated paperwork on her desk, fishing out three receipt-sized slips. "After I put out descriptions of our two troublemakers, I began receiving retroactive tips of where they'd been sighted."

"Hold up, two?" The agent's brow furrowed. "I'll tell you right now ma'am, I had no indication she was partnered with any-"

"I wondered if you might be able to explain one or two of them to me," the commissioner clarified, calmly talking over him. She picked up the first slip. "This first one is a report from Mr. and Mrs. James over at the Triple Rock Baptist Church. They say Calloway and her friend attended mass this past Sunday."

Maury slowly shook his head. "No…no explanation for that. Maybe they wanted to start out on a clean slate or whatnot."

"Fair enough." She moved on to the next report. "That same night, the two of them were sighted at an establishment known as The Backbeat."

"Son of a bitch," Maury muttered.

The commissioner looked up. "Excuse me?"

He sighed. "Look, the kid was pressing me for details about people in her dad's life. Her dad didn't lead the cleanest or safest of lives, you understand. I was trying to protect her, so when she all of a sudden lets up, says, 'that's okay,' I relaxed too much." He scratched his right temple. "Told her she shouldn't hang around places like The Backbeat or The Blue Note."

The commissioner smiled. "What a coincidence that you should mention The Blue Note." She picked up the third paper. "This call came in just recently from a William Hall. He reported seeing the two of them come in accompanied by a whole entourage, including two of his late-hour house musicians, Caroline and Maxwell Marini."

Maury sat up suddenly. "Did you say Marini?"

"Yes I did." She put the report down. "Does that name mean something to you?"

He shook his head once, waving her on. "Read me the rest. What else did Willie say? Anything?"

Suspiciously, the commissioner referred back to her paper. "Came in with Marinis and a few others, Marinis asked for month off for music endeavor, suspect revealed it was on her request, said she was 'putting a band together'."

Maury smirked. "I'll bet she is."

The commissioner looked at him. "Is there something you'd like to say, Mr. Sline?"

"As a matter of fact, there is." Maury Sline sat up, slapped a hand on the daunting, uniformed woman's desk, and smiled pleasantly. "I love this kid. She's a chip off the old block if I ever knew one. Obviously not afraid of breaking a few rules, and by the looks of it, she's halfway to a band of her own." He chuckled. "I wonder if she can sing and dance like Jake could. That would just take the cake, wouldn't it?" He stood up. "And with that, good madam of the force, I have paying clients awaiting me."

"Mr. Sline-" she began forcefully.

"Can't keep me here, I know my rights." He picked up his briefcase and turned to leave. "Call the office if you want to pull my phone records, but the kid's already disobeyed all my good advice." He looked back one last time, still grinning. "She may be just a kid Madam Commissioner, but if she's got even a _drop_ of Blues Brothers blood in her, you're in for a lot more trouble than you think."

Callie took a deep breath and released it, drumming her fingertips on the steering wheel. "So, this is the house?"

"Yep, this is Chelsea's place." Olivia leaned across the other backseat passengers to check outside the window. "And there's a car in the driveway, so people are home."

"Great." Callie shifted in her seat, taking hold of the door handle but otherwise remaining stationary. "I'll just go up, ring her doorbell…and get her."

There was a silence, and then J.J spoke up. "So, what are you waiting for?"

"Callie…" Lorna said, incredulity creeping into her voice, "are you scared?"

"Scared?" Callie considered. "It's possible. Olivia, how did you say you knew Chelsea again?"

"My school band."

"Right, right. And she plays saxophone too?"

"Actually, she's a clarinetist. But clarinets are in B flat and so are tenor saxes, so she could probably play whichever one was handed to her."

"That's cool." Callie took another deep breath. "A definite plus."

"So what's holding you back?" J.J asked again.

"Her last name's Dunne." Callie turned in her seat to address the group. "Dunne with an e. I asked you and you said 'with,' right Olivia?"

Olivia nodded. "I did, and I still don't know why it makes a difference."

Lorna piped up. "Because it would have been weirder if she asked you if friends of the family called her dad 'Murph'." She looked at Callie. "Right?" she asked in a lower voice.

"Right," Callie answered her. "As in Murph and the Magic Tones," she said in a louder voice.

Olivia frowned. "I heard him talking about that actually, the once time she invited me over."

"There you go, then." Callie sat back. "Her dad's a musician with his own band, and no matter how awful that band is, it gives him license to rip me apart if he comes to the door instead of Chelsea." She threw her arms helplessly in the air. "And on top of all that, I don't know her."

"Well, here, I'll come with you." Olivia reached over from the middle and opened the car door, then crawled out of Caroline's lap and over Jezebel's to get out.

"Deal." Callie stepped out and slammed her own door. "I'm only slightly less likely to vomit all over my shoes, but let's do this thing." She started up the driveway.

"Nice car, by the way," Olivia commented, catching up. "Kinda squished in the back, though. Where are you planning on putting Chelsea if she comes?"

Callie winced, glancing back at the Monaco. "On the roof?"

Olivia giggled. "Seriously, Cece?"

"Seriously, Parker." Callie grinned. "Hope you like that nickname, 'cause I see it catching on."

"Whatever you say, boss." They climbed the front steps and stood in the doorway.

Callie took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing." She rang the doorbell. For a moment or two, nothing happened.

"Are you sure they're home?" Callie asked Olivia.

"Pretty sure." Olivia paused for a moment, then smiled. "One second." She cleared her throat. "CHELSEA! IT'S OLIVIA! COME TO THE DOOR!"

Callie flinched back. "I didn't know you were capable of that volume."

"She people keep it pent-up," Olivia said matter-of-factly before turning to the door again and proceeding to pound it with her fist.

A voice came from the house. "I'm coming, I'm coming, hold on…" The tall, white door opened and they were greeted by a rather messy-looking brunette in untied Nikes, black shorts and a wrinkled Revolver t-shirt.

"Hey, Olivia." She straightened her smudged, slightly cat-eyes glasses as she spoke. "Sorry I didn't hear the doorbell. Mom's out with the kid brother and Dad's downstairs with the electric keyboard playing bad salsa party music, so I took the opportunity to tune out with some Fab Four." Her eyes drifted to Callie, and she made a suspicious face. "Do I know you?" Then she hesitated. " 'Cause if we've met somewhere and I don't remember, I'm so sorry."

"No, your instincts are correct, I am indeed a total stranger," Callie confirmed. She smiled, feeling somewhat relaxed that the worst appeared to be over. "May we come in?"

"Sure." Chelsea held the door open wider and gave them room to pass. "Forgive the clutter, my house is kind of an organizational wreck."

"Kind of?" joked Olivia.

"Psh, leave her alone," Callie waved the comment off. "Any time people get too used to clean, they forget what living looks like."

Chelsea gave her a confused smile. "Thanks…um…"

"Callie." Olivia had already settled herself in the cushioned rocking chair by the front window. "Her name's Callie, but she usually goes by Cece."

"Cece." Chelsea nodded. "Nice. Good music name. I like your shirt, by the way."

"Thanks." Callie instinctively brushed herself off, having a strange flashback of the inspections that took place at Saint Helen's. "I'm guessing from your shirt and what you said before that you're a Beatles fan?"

"Definitely." Chelsea grinned, flushing. "I'd have been a real fangirl if I were just born in the right generation."

Callie raised an eyebrow. "Really? So you're pretty dedicated then."

Chelsea obediently bobbed her head up and down. "Yes. Yes I am."

"She knows the story behind every single song, and can sing most of them backwards and forwards, though not always on key." Olivia deftly avoided the swat aimed at her. "She can play Yellow Submarine on her clarinet, but she wants to learn the bass." Olivia looked knowingly at Callie. "Because she's in love with Paul McCartney."

Chelsea rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

"Olivia tells me you're the best clarinetist she knows," Callie said, getting a hold back on the conversation. "You think you can vouch for yourself?"

Chelsea shrugged. "First chair in the school band ever since the fifth grade and lead player in the pit orchestra for three of those eight years so I'd say so, yeah."

"Nice." Callie took off her shades and folded them. "But do you think you could handle a change in genre?"

Chelsea's face clouded over. "What did I do to make you doubt me?"

Callie was perplexed. "I didn't-"

"Okay, context, Olivia's and my school has this uptight, prissy jazz program." She stopped, momentarily pointing her index finger at Callie. "Ironic, I know. Let me finish." Chelsea walked around the table at the room's center, then stopped and let out a sigh of frustration. "In a nutshell, they don't allow clarinets. If I played saxophone, I'd be all over that like John, Paul, and George when they first met Ringo. But as you know, I'm not."

"But you could if you wanted to, right?" Callie asked quickly.

Chelsea scoffed. "Any piece, any instrument. Give me something to learn and I'll learn it. I'll learn it, and I'll be awesome." She sighed again, sinking into the nearest chair. "Problem is, no one ever gives me a chance."

Callie smiled craftily. "So what if someone did?"

"Did what? Give me a chance? I'd take it."

"I mean right now. What if somebody right now was offering you a chance to be great?"

"Who?" Chelsea paused, then stared back at Callie. "You?"

"That's right." Callie became aware of her left hand in her jeans pocket, nervously gripping her shades as she made her pitch. "Chelsea Dunne, I'd like you to join my band."

Chelsea's brow furrowed, leading her whole face to follow in reflecting her confusion. "What?"

"Yeah, Callie's got a band." Olivia settled back into her chair, positioning her feet carefully on the gliding footrest. "That's why we have awesome nicknames. She's Cece, and I'm Parker. If you come with us, you'll get one too."

"Go with you where?"

"See, this is the complicated part." Callie half-smiled. "I usually only tell people this when I think they're about to say yes, but here goes." She clapped her hands together. "We're going to the Battle of the Bands at the Chicago House of Blues. As soon as we get an entire group."

"Battle of the Bands?" Chelsea put her hands in her hair and tipped her head downwards. "I can see why you don't give that tidbit out up front." She looked at Olivia. "And you're already hooked into this? Is your dad going too or something?"

Olivia shook her head. "Nope, no parents. Just Callie, me, hopefully you, and some other music kids in a car."

Chelsea frowned. "Why do I get the feeling that something's ethically wrong about this?"

Callie shrugged. "If you're going to start in on the ethics of the thing, maybe it's best if you don't come. The experience would be completely ruined."

"All right, then." Chelsea stood up and headed toward the corner of the house that she'd originally come from. "You two go, I wouldn't want to keep you."

Olivia stood up. "Chels, what if your dad said it was okay?"

Chelsea stopped. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if Callie or I was to ask your father, Murph Dunne, music extraordinaire and past leader and member of successful music endeavors since _before we were born_…" she and Chelsea said the last four words together, "if I was to ask and he said yes, would you come?"

Callie felt her heart speeding up in panic. "Olivia-"

Chelsea grimaced. "If you want me to go with you that badly, then sure." She looked blankly to the side. "I just feel guilty not letting mom know."

Olivia looked at Callie. "I forgot to tell you about her guilt complex. But keep her distracted from that, and you should be fine."

Callie looked back at Olivia. "Are you actually going to ask him?"

"Chelsea said he was downstairs practicing. Mr. Dunne is much easier to work distracted than not." She pivoted. "I'll be right back."

"I suppose you'll want me to bring this along." Callie turned to see Chelsea holding up a smallish black instrument case.

"That's your clarinet, right?"

Chelsea grinned wryly. "I told you Callie, the only woodwind I've ever played is the clarinet." She set the case down on the floor. "But find me a tenor sax and, like I said, I'll give you my best shot."

"I'm back!" Olivia announced, emerging from the other direction. "Grab your stuff Chelsea, I got you the go-ahead."

"Really?" She picked up her case again. "What did he say?"

"Let's see…mm-hm, sure, and fine with me. In that order."

Chelsea laughed nervously. "He probably didn't hear a word you were saying."

"That's what Cece's counting on," Olivia said with an innocent smile. "Go and get a change of clothes or something and meet us at the car, 'kay?"

"Sure. Be right there." Chelsea waited until Olivia had gone and then turned to Callie. "Out of all of us, I'm glad she asked."

"Why's that?" Callie asked her, barely restraining her nerves.

Chelsea giggled. "I'm his daughter after all, and I don't know if you know who I'm talking about when I say this, but you look a lot like one of dad's old band leaders."

Callie shook her head, smiling. "No, I know who you mean." She turned to the door, her voice dropping. "I know exactly who you mean."

"Okay gang, what's our seating situation?"

Jezebel sat up, arching her back. "Well, you two're up front, I'm here by the window, Andy's in Sam's lap, Olivia's in Care Bear's lap, and Max is on the floor between my right leg and his sister's left."

"J.J, my name's not Andy anymore, remember?" Andy threw his arms in the air, hitting the back of his hands on the car roof and then quickly retracting them. "It's Night."

"Yeah, you're Night, you're brother's Day, and I'm eight fifty-four in the morning. Bite me." Jezebel leaned forward. "Before we get all the way full in here, we need to pick up someone who's got a car."  
>Callie chuckled. "I'm on it, J.J."<p>

"Callie, I'm serious. We're sardines in here, and there's a reason I like my pizza plain."

"I'm here!" Chelsea ran down her front steps, clarinet case in hand. "I almost packed a bag, but I figured—whoa." She got a look at the car's occupancy. "Is there room for me?"

"Of course!" Max patted the spot on the floorboard next to him. "It's cramped, but to sardines like us, it's home sweet home."

Callie leaned down and popped the trunk. "Stash your horn here and climb in wherever you'll fit." She looked sideways at Lorna. "Here's hoping we lift a trumpet player with an SUV."

"You need a trumpet player? I might be able to help you there." Chelsea opened the car door again and climbed in on the floorboard. "I hope we don't get pulled over for this."

"They won't pull us over if we don't do anything suspicious." Lorna elbowed Callie in the ribs. "Like speeding."

"Yeah yeah yeah," Callie muttered.

Olivia nudged Chelsea with her toe. "Hear that one?"

Andy looked down. "Hey, she's wearing a Beatles shirt. She loves you, yeah yeah yeah!"

"Hold on, Andy." Sam also looked down at their newest member. "Didn't you just say you knew a trumpet player?"

"Yeah, I do." She leaned forward to Callie. "If you want to go and check her out, she doesn't live too far from here. I can tell you how to get there."

"Far out." Callie turned the key in the ignition. "North or south to get off this road?"

"South." Chelsea pointed up the street. "That way."

"So, how do you know this potential trumpet player?" Lorna asked her as they pulled out of the driveway.

"She plays in the school band too. First chair, same as me. Her name's-"

"Oh my God, someone's following us!" Jezebel was leaning up against the window. "Someone's running after us, slow down!"

"What in the-?" Callie braked. "It's not a police person, is it?"

"Not unless police people are short, round-faced little girls with double suitcases."

"It's Minnie!" Max exclaimed.

"Max, you can't possibly know that," Caroline chided him.

Chelsea frowned. "How did you know her name?"

"Whose name?" asked Jezebel, still looking out the window.

"The trumpet player I know. Her name's Minnie. Her real name's Marni, but that's what everyone calls her. Minnie. Minnie McTeer.

"That's our Minnie, Care Bear!" said Max. "She knows our Minnie!"

"Yes Max, I know, that's good juju." Caroline gave a sympathetic eyeroll. "But we still don't know if-"

"Max! Care Bear!" Their follower approached the car and tapped the window. "If your person says it's okay, my answer is yes! I want to come with you!"

Callie turned backward. "J.J, you heard the lady, open up and let her in."

Jezebel stared back at her. "First, tell me where she's gonna sit."

Callie popped the trunk again. "You're not going to like my answer much."

J.J scowled, but obediently kicked the door open. "If the next person we find doesn't have a car, you're not driving any more."

"Agreed," Andy piped up. "I get that there's a lot of us, but this stuff is just nuts."

"Where do I sit?" Minnie asked, poking her head in.

J.J patted her lap. "Right here, hon. But that's only until our driver here gets us better arrangements."

"It's fine with me if it's fine with you!" Minnie sat on Jezebel. "Hand me the buckle and I'll strap us in."

"So, you want to join our band?" Lorna asked as Callie shifted to driving speed again.

"Yes." Minnie smiled beatifically. "I want to be a professional entertainer when I'm older, just like my dad."

"_**Asked a girl what she wanted to be…**_" Sam sang to himself.

"_**And she said baby, can't you see?**_" Chelsea joined in, surprising him. "_**I wanna be famous, a star of the screen-**_"

"_**But you can do something in-between**_," Sam finished the verse. "Everybody!"

_**Baby**____**you can drive my car! **_they all sang as they drove through the early afternoon.

_**Yes I'm gonna be a star**_

_**Baby you can drive my car**_

_**And maybe I love you**_

_**Beep beep, beep beep, yeah!**_

"W-which room?" the paperboy asked nervously.

"Room 205, just upstairs," the man behind the desk repeated. "You won't have any trouble there, just knock twice and slide the paper under the door." He leaned forward. "And best you hold off on that renewal notice until the end of the month. Finances are tight for him at the moment."

"Got it, thank you sir." The boy turned and jogged toward the staircase, pushing himself to a run as soon as his foot touched the first step. Remy hated buildings like this, shifty places with low rent and a men-only sign. He scanned the door numbers as he walked past—1…3…5. He took a deep breath and knocked twice. "Paper!" He slid the newsprint under the door and turned to go.

"Hold on there, fella."

Remy halted, turning slowly back around. "Yes?"

The door opened, revealing a tall man in seemingly pristine condition Wayfarers, but otherwise a mess—wearing a t-shirt, sweatpants, mismatched socks and a dirty robe at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. Remy's mouth twisted at the corner as he considered—midlife crisis, or just hung over from the night before?

As he stood waiting, the man bent down and picked up the paper. "I was wondering about this." He tapped the side column with the police ticker.

Snapping out of his thoughts, the paper boy ventured closer. "Yeah, the thing about the two girls who stole the police car. What about it?"

"It's been gettin' a lot of press lately, hasn't it?"

"Sure, whatever, I guess." Remy shrugged. "Maybe 'cause the girls came from that uppity religious orphanage…Saint Helens. Things always get weird when the church's involved."

"Saint Helen's, huh?" The man let out a gusty sigh and shook his head. "Never thought that old place would go far as it has." He looked up again. "At the risk of giving out, whatever you call it, "TMI," I grew up in that uppity religious orphanage."

Remy was taken aback. "Wow. Tough break mister…" he checked his route list for a last name. "Blues."

"Hell, I survived." He turned the paper around to scan it again. "Two girls jacked that ride, ya say?"

"Yep. And they've got weird names, too. One's Lorna, that's not so weird, but the other one sounds more like a last name than first." Remy frowned. "It started with a C. Call? Calvin? Cologne? No, Calloway! That's it."

"Calloway Curtis?" came the voice behind the paper.

"Yeah, right, Calloway Curtis." Remy heard the rattling of paper and looked over to see the man's hands shaking ever-so-slightly. "Sir?" he asked. "Mr. Blues? Are you all right?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." He quickly rolled the paper and put it in his robe pocket. "You know, I'm overdue on my renewal to this fine publication, aren't I?"

Remy grimaced. "It's okay sir, I wasn't supposed to tell you until the end of the month."

The man scoffed. "Floyd tell you that, kid? Floyd lies. Just, wait here a second."

The door closed. Remy obediently stood there waiting, stunned. On the other side of the door, the man pulled off his shades to get a good look at the police car story for himself. Right next to the ticker headline were pictures of the two female offenders: Lorna Whitesnake and Calloway Curtis. The first was blonde and textbook rebellious, and the second was light brunette with a look in her eye that dared anyone and everyone to challenge her—an exact look he had seen on only one other person's face—Jake's.

"Callie," Elwood said aloud, barely believing his own eyes and ears. "What the heck are you trying to do?"


	7. All the Ducks in a Row

"For all the extra navigation we did to get to this cutesy little villa, all I have to say is that I'd better not be disappointed." Callie cautiously pulled to the side of the street and parked. "This look like the place, Chelsea?"

Chelsea smiled guiltily. "I wouldn't know, I've never been here." She folded her hands, retreating inward. "He's in jazz with Olivia and I saw him posting for all of them to come and jam at his house one weekend. I wrote down the address and memorized it. Unfortunately, the paper it's actually written on is at home."

"Fair enough." Callie looked backward. "You ever jammed here before, Parker?"

"Nope." Olivia laughed. "Can you really picture me at a jam session? I'm not cool enough."

"Yes you are," Caroline reassured her.

"It's got nothing to do with coolness level." Max looked seriously around at the other passengers. "Jam sessions are not for everyone. A word to the wise."

Callie winced in mild confusion. "I see." She turned to Lorna. "Think this is it?"

"No clue."

"Good enough for me." Callie got out of the car and waited for her friend. "You said you were coming with me this time, right?"

"And I am, just gimme a sec." Lorna unbuckled and turned around in her seat before exiting. "All of you. Be good."

J.J drowsily shifted from under their newest addition. "You best come back with extra car keys."

"Cool your jets, J.J." Lorna opened her door and craned her neck to get a better look at their surroundings. "I see a car in the driveway. Can you tell make, model, year on that set of wheels from here?"

Callie squinted. "Pretty sure that's a Bentley. Brand new, so probably made this year. I'm not sure about the exact make and model, though. The person who _would_ know left Saint Helen's two years ago."

Lorna laughed, getting out. "Tommy Saint Lawrence, right?"

"Yeah, good old Saint Crash." Callie stepped out in front of the hood. "You coming now?"

"Yep, ready. Let's go." Lorna started up the walk with long strides, making her partner jog to catch up. "Ready to work your magic again?"

"Yeah, I'll do my best I guess." Callie looked up at where they were going and noticed a figure on the front stoop. "I wonder if that's him now."

Lorna looked. "The fine, well-muscled man bent over his guitar in a tortured, artistic manner? Let's hope so."

Callie snorted. "You okay, Lorn?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked in the same faraway voice as before.

"You're acting mushy and weird and it's freaking me out." Callie grimaced. "Excuse me." She covered the last few yards of walkway at a run and halted at the bottom of the steps. "Are you Aaron?"

"Who wants to know?" he asked without looking up.

Callie frowned, her eyes drifting to the soundless motion of his hands. "Is that how you practice?"

He chuckled. "First you want my credentials, and now I have to explain my questionable actions." He stopped his guitar fingering briefly to look her up and down. "Are you the midget police?"

Callie locked her jaw. "No, I am not the midget police."

"Police? Where?" Coming to a stop at her friend's side, Lorna looked over her shoulder. "They can't be following us already, we're far away from the city and we've only been gone since…" he speech suddenly slowed as her eyes drifted to Aaron. "…yesterday."

Aaron grinned widely at her. "Sounds like you two live dangerously."

Lorna smiled back, feeling the jitters in her chest move to her brain. "Yep, we do. That we definitely do. As real-life runaways, this is the lifestyle we-"

"My Lord, are you blushing?" Callie interrupted.

"Shut up you twerp," Lorna snapped, turning even redder.

"I don't appreciate the name-calling first of all Thorn, and second of all, I'm not about to stand here and let you tell the next potential member of our band how we split on our last group."

"Your name's Thorn?" Aaron asked Lorna, ignoring Callie's rant. "Sweet name."

"Thanks." Lorna smiled self-consciously and shrugged, prompting Callie to make a rude, exasperated noise. "You can call me Lorna though, if you want. It's my real name." She looked sideways at Callie. "And she'd like everyone in the band to call her Cece, even though her name's really Calloway Curtis Bl-"

"Keep a lid on it Thorn, we've only just met the guy!" Callie took off her hat and used it to cover her friend's face. "No offense of course, but as I said, we don't really know you, you don't really know who we are, it's not getting any lighter outside, and you haven't even heard our pitch yet."

"Hold on just a minute with that…" Aaron had put down his guitar and picked up the newspaper sitting beside him. "Calloway and Lorna, those aren't popular names, but they sound familiar to me…" he scanned the front page, then folded it over and handed it to Callie. "Police blotter, bottom right. Those two lovelies wouldn't happen to be you, would they?"

Callie's eyes widened in surprise and awe. "Sure enough." She held the section out to her partner. "Look Lorn, real rap sheets at last."

"I'll say." Lorna examined the tiny published headshots for herself and then handed the feature back to Aaron. "Watch out. As far as the press is concerned, we're hardened criminals."

Aaron shook his head. "Sure, whatever, quit bragging." He stood up, brushed himself off and crossed his arms. "So how does that pitch go that I apparently haven't heard yet?"

"Right, I'm up." Callie patted Lorna on the arm. "Take a minute, just breathe. I know he's attractive, but do it anyway." She stepped forward and cleared her throat. "Mr. Aaron Rubin, we have come before you-"

"Nope, nope." Aaron cut them off. "Cut the Mister Rubin business. I'll be honest, it's kind of creepy when you call me the same thing that people call that gray-haired balding guy in the house behind me."

Callie nodded. "Fine. Aaron. We have come before you today with a proposal in the fields of business and music."

Aaron lifted his right shoulder in a half-shrug. "Good start, sounds legit enough that I might just keep on listening."

"Oh boy, lucky us," Callie growled before Lorna jumped in.

"Callie and I are conducting a bit of a…large-scale experiment." She clasped her hands together. "An experiment that everyone involved would get something out of."

Aaron leaned to one side. "So when and where does the music part figure in?"

"Now and continuously from here to Chicago." Callie adjusted her shades and mirrored his crossed arms. "You play guitar, we need a guitar player. Plan is to take on Battle of the Bands at the House of Blues. You in?"

"Whoa there little fast-talker." Aaron laughed at her, causing her stance to falter. "Just because I've clearly passed your test doesn't mean you've passed mine." He fixed her with a quizzical expression. "First, why me in particular?"

"You come highly recommended," Callie answered.

"And did the same person tell you how to find me?"

"Indeed. That is, if the name Chelsea Dunne means anything to you."

Aaron smiled. "Yeah, I know her. Freshman band, always ushers at jazz concerts and stuff. She told you I was the guy?"

"The best she knew," Lorna added.

"You don't want to let her down, do you?" Callie swept an arm toward the walk.

Aaron blinked. "Wait, Chelsea's with you?"

Callie shrugged. "She's part of the band too. Why wouldn't she be?"

Aaron frowned. "She's the kind of kid whose parents love permission slips. Just level with me once, are the cops going to add hostage case to your raps on her account?"

"God no!" Lorna blurted, then restrained herself and cleared her throat. "We didn't have that much trouble."

"Trickery and deceit," said Callie with a sly grin.

"Didn't have to hog-tie her or anything," Lorna finished.

Aaron laughed out loud. "Nice. Badass points. Twenty for you and ten for your friend She'll level up once she grows into her coat."

Callie rolled her eyes. "Just say you're in already."

"Yeah, sure whatever boss," Aaron said, winking at Lorna.

"You're not getting rid of me until I get a yes or no answer," Callie pressed. "I'm serious, I'll stand here all day."

"Fine, yes!" Aaron gave her a funny look. "I thought I said that."

"Had to make sure." Callie glanced past him. "If it turned out this was a kidnapping, Thorn and I would have the Chicago Area PD to answer to after all, not just your dad."

Aaron scoffed. "Seriously? My dad?"

Callie stepped cautiously back. "Why? Is he dead? Did I strike a nerve?"

Aaron laughed again. "No sweat, kid. He's alive and kicking, 'least as far as I know." He stooped down to put his guitar back in its case. "But darned if I'm telling him anything about my social life." He snapped the latches shut. "Otherwise known as every breath I take that he's not there to count and measure."

"Oooh, ouch," said Lorna. "Overprotective?"

"Understatement," Aaron sighed.

Callie frowned. "If his so up in your business, where is he now?"

"On the couch taking a nap," Aaron said cheerfully, picking up his instrument. "Fortunately for me. Translated, forty-five minutes of quiet practice and fifteen more for a clean getaway." He indicated the walk. "Shall we?"

Callie winced. "Yeah, see, about that…"

"Jesus Harrison McLean Emmet Christ, you didn't really mean the thing about standing here all day, did you?"

Lorna smiled confusedly. "Nice names there."

"The guitar gods," Aaron explained. "Who else would I call to in times of midgets and musical inconvenience?"

"Our problem, sir, is that the car is crowded." Callie pointed to the Monaco. "I'm within an inch of my life and not even that if I don't come back with you and an extra set of wheels."

"I thought you'd never ask." Aaron pulled a keyring from his jeans pocket as he walked. "We'll take the Bentley."

Callie's jaw dropped. "You're allowed to carry the keys to that baby?"

He made a face. "I own it, so yeah."

"Own it own it?" Callie turned and walked backwards. "Like signed, pinkslip-"

"Yeah, I own it." Aaron looked at Lorna. "Is your friend okay?"

"I'm just as psyched out as she is," Lorna confessed. "There aren't many people we know who can afford half a car let alone this…" she ran a hand over the waxed, silver hood.

Aaron smoothed back his hair. "Just say the word and it's you and me cruising. No one else."

Callie turned her head and called out to the rest of the group. "Hey guys, we got another car! Get over here and have a look!"

"Praise the Lord!" shouted Jezebel as the doors opened and they all but fell out. As the mob approached, Aaron took a protective hold of the door handle. "Please tell them not to hurt my car."

Callie turned. "Hey guys, the new guitar player here asks you respectfully not to harm his luxury vehicle, so if we could back it off a little there…"

"Respect the perimeter kids, let's go!" shouted Chelsea, shuffling backward with the group. When they had all stopped moving, Callie nodded once and turned back to the other two. "Moment of truth, folks. Who's going with who?"

Lorna quickly did a headcount. "There's eleven of us altogether. Callie and I'll take six including us, and you get the rest in the Bentley."

"Sweet." Aaron leaned on the door, giving the rest of the group a once-over. "I call man car." He frowned, counting the male heads again. "Man car plus Chelsea. That work for you two?"

Callie snickered. "Yeah, good luck with that."

Lorna sighed, taking pity on Aaron's apparent confusion. "You don't really want two competitive brothers in the same car, do you?"

"Hell no, which two are the brothers?"

Callie glanced from the corner of her eye. "The tall, light brown-haired one who's got the short guy by his jacket collar."

Aaron gave a short laugh. "Right. You two take the shrimp, I'll take Olivia. Man and band geek car."

"Deal." Callie swiveled, then beckoned Aaron to follow. "You're part of the group now, come introduce yourself." She placed him in front of the rest of them. "This talented and generous young man is Aaron Rubin, son of Alan 'Mr. Fabulous' Rubin, one of the biggest musical tightwads who ever lived."

Aaron looked dumbfoundedly at Lorna. "How does she know stuff like that?"

Lorna shook her head. "She's Cece. Just go with it."

"But luckily," Callie continued, "he has agreed to be part of our group and offers his services as lead guitarist and driver." She motioned to him with her left hand. "Likewise, he will now reveal which of you he trusts enough to transport on his own upholstery."

Aaron waved her away, speaking quickly. "Tall kid, hippie kid, Squawkie and Olivia, get over here."

There was a murmur of confusion in the group. Callie exchanged a worried look with Lorna, then leaned over to Aaron. "Uh, Aaron? Who's Squawkie?"

"The loudest clarinet player in the Chicago North Band." Aaron smirked, pointing to a red-faced Chelsea. "She knows who she is."

"Shut up, Aaron." Chelsea made a face as she and Olivia approached. "Even professional clarinetists can't consistently hit the super high notes. The director said so."

Aaron patted her on the shoulder. "Yeah, just keep tellin' yourself that, Squawkie."

Lorna broke in. "I hate to derail the inside joke, but-?"

Aaron shook his head. "Chels here's pretty good at her instrument, as you know, and one day the love of her life happened to be in the band room, so she decided to take out her clarinet and woo him."

"I wasn't wooing anyone!" Chelsea protested. She appealed to Callie. "Back me up here, nobody woos anybody with a _clarinet_."

Callie nodded. "Sounds truthful."

"I was practicing," Chelsea clarified succinctly, then sunk a little. "I didn't notice Braeden Rivers was in the room until _after_ it happened."

"So she starts in on this solo and she was cookin' there for a minute or two…" Aaron went on with the story, stepping back as the rest of the band gathered closer. "And then…squaaaaaawk!"

"My reed was dry," Chelsea muttered.

"I don't care how dry it was, you sounded like a dying goose with strep throat!" Aaron chuckled, nudging Chelsea playfully. "Squawk squawk."

Olivia rolled her eyes as she walked around him. "It gets less funny every time you tell it, Aaron." She and Chelsea climbed into the back and shut the door.

"Hippie gets shotgun," Aaron decreed as Max and Sam ventured forward. "Blondes up front. Symmetry."

Callie squinted at him for a moment, then shook her head. "Ah, whatever. Your car." She started back toward the Monaco. "Everyone else, pile back in here."

"Sweet deal." J.J caught up to her and Lorna. "I get a seat to myself now, right?"

"I suppose you backseaters'll have to battle that out amongst yourselves…" Callie retrieved her own car key from her pocket. "But as far as seniority rules, you're fine. You've been with us longer than the others so you don't have to be on the floor." Callie unlocked the driver's side and slid in. "Everyone get situated and we're off again."

"Hold on a sec." J.J climbed in behind them. "Our new driver's the new guy here. How's he gonna know where to go?"

Callie considered. "I'll have Andy call Sam once we know the plan." She sighed, resting her hands on the wheel. "Here's hoping I have one before I have to turn the ignition."

"Minnie, no, it won't work!"

"Yes it will!"

"No, it won't!"

"Come on, Andy." The group listened as the two voices moved around the back of the car. "You're just afraid to try."

Andy made a disgusted noise. "Yeah, I'll get crushed!"

"Why would you get crushed?" Lorna, Callie and J.J leaned forward as the two came in front of a car window.

"Because…I'm small, and you're…" Andy's words failed him and he froze in place.

Minnie raised an eyebrow. "I'm what?"

"You're…your…lower…butt…region…large." Andy's words and hand gestures failed him, leaving him a blushing disgrace. The inside of the car roared with laughter.

Minnie rolled her eyes, waving the comment away. "Oh, my butt won't crush you. You're just overreacting." She opened the car door opposite J.J. "Get in."

Andy hesitated. "Minnie, I really think-"

"Just get in!" She shoved him inside and climbed through after him. "Now buckle us."

Andy sighed. "Fine." Scooting in closer to her, he stretched the middle belt across both of their laps and fastened it. "There. Happy?"

Callie stared at them. "A double seating? Seriously? All that fuss over a double seating?"

"See?" Minnie nudged Andy.

"And by the way Andy," said Jezebel, "you best respect that young lady's behind." She muttered to herself. "Butt region large…"

"Oh, quit making fun of him." Caroline got in, claiming the last seat. "I don't blame him for being claustrophobic and ashamed of his own rear end. The estrogen levels in the car are most likely getting higher by the minute, making levels of insecurity go up as well."

"Interesting." Callie put the key in the ignition. "Still though, let's all try and keep our hormone stuff to a minimum while we're in here, 'kay?"

"Whatever." J.J put her hands out in front of her. "You don't see me complainin'."

"So, Cece…" Lorna put her feet on the dash and turned to the left with crossed arms. "What's the plan?"

"That depends." Callie turned the key and listened as the motor kicked in. "About what time are we looking at?"

Lorna checked her phone. "About four-fifty."

"Little late, not too bad." Callie nodded. "We'll get into the city again and find some place to stay overnight, then hit up another music club or two for more prospects." She raised her voice slightly. "That good with you all?"

"Fine with me, hon," said J.J.

"Let's go," agreed Caroline. Minnie nodded enthusiastically.

"_**I like big butts and I cannot lie!"**_ sang Andy.

"I'll take that as a yes." She put her foot on the gas and pulled out into the street. "Hey Thorn, better toss Andy your cell."

"Right." Lorna obeyed. "Call your brother."

"My name's 'Night'," Andy grumbled, aggressively pecking out the numbers.

"Your name's whatever I call you when you're up, punk." Callie pulled up to the solitary red light at the corner. "Tell your bro we're taking a right here, unless that's a bad idea."

"Hey Sam?" Andy covered one ear and shouted into the receiver. "We're gonna turn right at the end of the street, so follow us!"

Following the rest of the car's lead, Callie cringed. "Kid, why are you yelling?"

"Hold on a sec," he barked, pressing the phone closer to his face. "I said we're turning right up at the corner, so follow us!"

Caroline spoke up. "He's probably yelling just so Sam can hear him over the loud music."

"Music?" said Callie.

Jezebel frowned. "Is that where the vibrations are comin' from?"

Minnie, leaning as far away as she could from Andy, managed to twist in her seat and peek out the back window. "It must be some heavy-duty rock. I can hear electric guitar through Andy's end of the phone, and it looks like they're really jamming out back there."

"Yes—yes I see you!" Andy shouted. "Fine, Minnie sees you! We know you're there. Bye." He held the phone back out to Lorna. "Sorry, they were listening to hair metal. I had to shout."

Lorna perked up. "Did you have to shout it, shout it, shout it out loud by any chance?"

Andy made a face. "What?"

"Kiss is a glam-rock band, so you might have confused him a little. But nevertheless, nice." Callie took her right hand off the wheel for a fist-bump.

Jezebel looked to the front. "If they get to jam out, why don't we?"

"Yeah!" said Andy. "We're going to all these music places, so we need to get in the mood!"

"Let's do it!" Minnie agreed, bouncing up and down in her seat. "Let's do it, let's do it, let's do it!"

"I wouldn't be opposed…" Care Bear added quietly.

"Up to the driver," Lorna reminded them, looking emphatically at Callie. "I believe the ranks are bored."

"Well, what are you looking at me for, then? I was just about to suggest it myself. Get some tunes going?"

Lorna looked critically at the Monaco's entertainment system. "I see a cassette player and a CD player but no hole for an extra cord so nobody's iPod, sorry." She pushed the radio button and began fiddling with the station settings. "Police ticker, news, announcements, police ticker from another county…"

"You don't have to bother with that junk, Lorn." Callie indicated the glove box. "Before I joined you and J.J in the Goodwill I moved some of my own stuff up there, check it out."

"Don't mind if I do, friend." Lorna pored over Callie's selections with an expression of waning confidence.

"What's wrong?" Cece inquired after a few minutes.

Lorna sighed. "Babe, you know I love you dearly, but most of this stuff is so far off the face of the current world that it's nearly alien."

Callie gave a short laugh. "Oh come on Lorn-"

"I'm not kidding Callie, if you played this for the big kids, you'd get our asses kicked." Lorna turned to face the back seat. "Show of hands, who genuinely wants to hear Sonny Boy Williamson's cover of 'Coffee Blues'? No one? That's what I thought." She faced front, punching Callie in the arm. "You gotta go with the times kid, you're losing followers right and left."

"Shut up," Callie groaned, rolling her eyes behind the shades. "You obviously didn't see the little masterpiece mix on the bottom."

"Nope, hadn't gotten there yet." Lorna held up the thin CD case to examine the track listing. After another moment, she broke into a grin. "Now this is what I'm talking about!" She put the CD into the player. "Anybody who's anybody knows this first one, so you all better sing along."

As the opening notes of 'Respect' travelled to the back, Jezebel sat up straight. "This is my song!"

"Own it, girl!" Minnie chimed in.

Lorna cupped her hands to fake a microphone. "And now, presenting, the incomparable Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin!"

"_**What you want-" **_J.J belted.

"_**Hoo!" **_sang Andy and Minnie.

"_**Baby I got it-"**_

"_**Hoo!"**_

"_**What you need-"**_

"_**Hoo!"**_

"_**You know I got it-"**_

"_**Hoo!"**_

"_**All I'm askin', is for a little respect when you get home!"**_

"_**Just a little bit!" **_Callie and Lorna joined in._** "Just a little bit!"**_

Lorna's phone rang. She answered it and covered one ear as Callie lowered the volume. "Hello?—Oh yeah, hi, what's up?—Yeah, we're blasting Aretha.—No, it wasn't an act of revenge."

"Or was it?" Callie murmured, pulling to a stop at the intersection.

"Uh-huh," Lorna continued. "Yeah, all right, we can do that. Sure, yeah, thanks. See ya." She hung up. "Aaron says to let him up front so he can show us the quickest way down the open roads."

"Fair enough." Callie checked the mirror and edged over. "Anything else?"

Lorna tipped her head to the side. "Else?"

Callie half-smirked. "I saw you making that face like he said something you wish he hadn't."

"That." Lorna shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"You'd get too encouraged."

"Spill." Callie poked her in the arm. "Spill."

"No."

"Was it personal?" Caroline asked.

"Ooooooooh," Andy and Minnie chorused.

"No, it wasn't personal," Lorna growled.

"Then what's so dangerous that you have to keep it a secret?" Minnie sat up and folded her hands. "I'm only sixteen, but I promise I'm mature for my age."

Lorna sighed heavily. "It's nothing bad, nothing personal, not anything like that. You guys make me feel like such an uptight." She sat back in her seat. "He just said to keep in mind that he joyrides at 85 miles per hour."

"All right!" said Callie. "Driving pals!"

Lorna closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. "And this is why I don't tell you anything. Lord help us all."

Callie rolled her eyes again. "Don't worry Thorn, I'll stay under the speed limit." She reached for the music volume to turn it back up. "…if he does."

_**R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me**_

_**R-E-S-P-E-C-T, come on, come on…**_

The commissioner glanced up from her log, offering rare yet beautiful smile to the man on the other side of the desk. "I appreciate you coming to me right away, Mr. Rubin. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to believe what's happened."

He shrugged. "No so much as you might think. See, Aaron's been a rebellious little devil ever since he was a baby. He's run away more times than I feel like counting and I'd be lying if I said I didn't see this one coming…" he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "We'd just had a nasty fight y'see, music career, college, studying and whatnot." He produced a handkerchief to wipe his brow. "But I wouldn't have thought it had anything to do with that…"

"It came as quite a surprise to me too, sir." The commissioner pushed the case file across to him. "It just goes to show you that everything's hereditary these days."

Mr. Rubin stared in wonder at the size of the folder. "How many kids besides Aaron are involved in this?"

"Ten." Her eyes glittered with pride as she watched his jaw drop. "Not the least of which are the ringleaders, two little orphan girls from Saint Helen's Orphanage."

His eyes slowly drifted to hers. "You're not serious."

"I'm afraid I am, and so is the daily newspaper." She dropped a folded-over front page on top of the file. "The girls stole a police car, Mr. Rubin, and have been picking up girls and boys close to their own age who possess musical talent. Is that a scenario you're familiar with?"

He laughed nervously. "You wouldn't ask if you didn't already know my answer, Madam Commissioner." He let out a breath, chuckled again, and wiped his hands on his pants.

The commissioner smiled. "There's no reason to be nervous, Mr. Rubin. I'd just like your cooperation in this little matter concerning the girls. Particularly this one." She pointed to the picture on the left. "Calloway."

Mr. Rubin slowly peered at the photograph, then leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. "I'll be damned."

She kept smiling. "What is it?"

He sat forward again and leaned on the desk with an exhausted expression. "If that little girl is real, and she and her friend there are really going on these escapades like you say, then there's no doubt in my mind. She's a Blues kid all right, but if you want to know whose I couldn't say."

"That's all I needed to know." The commissioner pulled back her folder and leaned forward as well. "So tell me this, 'Mister Fabulous'—if I wanted to catch a Blues without destroying the infrastructure of the entire city, how might I go about doing that?"

Mr. Rubin shook his head. "I'm not sure what to tell you ma'am. Jake and Elwood were a force to be reckoned with, even without us."

She frowned. "And by 'us' you mean the rest of the band?"

"Yeah, no doubt about it." He half-smiled, reminiscing. "All of them were like a second family to me. The whole thing always grated on my nerves a little, but it was special, I guess, that Jake and Elwood didn't want anyone but us, all of us, backing them up."

The commissioner laughed quietly. "You're telling me that those two would only perform if you and all their other musicians went along with it?"

"That was the goal at least, and funny enough, it always seemed to work out for them." He folded his hands. "Even for Elwood after Jake died all those years ago."

"I see." She smiled to herself, opening the file once more. "So they insisted on each one of you, and wouldn't go on if it weren't just so?"

"That's what I've been telling you."

She nodded once. "As I'd hoped." She picked up her phone and dialed an extension. "Intel and Communications? Yes, send me one of your agents so I can give them a list of people. All of them are in the system, and I need to speak with them before my little criminal does. That's all. Thank you." She hung up. "If what you've told me is true, Mr. Rubin…"

"Every word," he assured her.

"I then have an advantage that Miss Calloway Blues can't counter. Assuming that she continues to enlist the children with blood ties to your original band she can be headed off, which is what I plan to do. All I have left to ask of you is who of these remaining would be most likely to help me out?" She smiled indulgently. "Besides you, of course."

He considered. "Matt Murphy's been a pretty hard sell in the past."

"Murphy." She made a note, then looked up. "I thank you for your time Mr. Rubin, myself or a member of my team will let you know if anything further develops."

"You're welcome, ma'am." He slowly stood up to leave. "It's a new habit of mine to stay on the good side of the law."

"See that you do." The commissioner gave him one last smile. "We'll be in touch."

"That was nice," Callie commented offhandedly as she ejected her mix CD.

"Yeah, that really was," Lorna agreed. "Finally, a whole car full of people I didn't feel like we had to murder for their taste in music."

"Excuse me…" Andy hesitantly broke in, "what kind of taste would you kill someone for? Because I for one would not like to die today."

"Kill might be a strong word," Callie amended. "Despite our stiff upbringing, our tolerance levels for tastes in musical entertainment and otherwise are fairly high, but there are two specific genres we can't and won't tolerate."

"And what might those be?" J.J drawled.

"Hardcore country and hardcore rap," Lorna answered. "Country is Callie's limit and rap is mine."

"If you value your life, you'll abandon every song, chord or thought you have regarding Hank Williams and or his son right now." Callie put on the turn signal. "Thorn requests that the same protocol is taken for Coolio, 50 Cent, and LL Cool J. And-" She trailed off, catching sight of something advancing rapidly in her rearview mirror. Instinctively, her fingers tightened on the steering wheel and she bore her right foot down harder on the gas.

"What's up?" Lorna asked, noticing the change.

"Are you okay?" Caroline added, concern creeping into her voice.

"I'm fine," Callie said. "I'm not sure if the car behind us is."

Lorna looked in her own rearview mirror. "Isn't that Aaron?"

"Yep!" Minnie sat up and patted the driver's seat. "It's okay Cece, it's just Aaron and the other boys."

"I know who it is," Callie snapped, making Minnie shrink back. "What I want to know is why he's trying to pass me again. We already got the tour."

"Challenge to a drag race?" Minnie offered.

"Don't encourage her," Lorna growled. She sat heavily back. "I've had enough crazy driving in the past two days to last a lifetime."

"Here he comes!" said Andy, leaning across Minnie and pressing his face to the window. He looked back at Caroline. "Your brother's in shotgun." He faced forward again. "And it looks like he's rolling the window down."

"What do they want?" J.J grumbled.

"Let's find out." Callie put down her own window and watched the Bentley pull up beside them.

" 'sup?" she asked, keeping one eye on Max and the other on the road.

Max drew himself up importantly. "Master Rubin challenges you to a duel of speed and courage on this long and arduous stretch of open road."

"Told you," said Minnie.

"Oh really?" Callie slowed down as both cars approached the solitary stoplight on the expanse of black tar. "Tell 'Master Rubin' challenge accepted." She revved her engine three times. "Bring it on, boys."

"Oh Lord, here we go." Lorna took firm hold of the handle above the passenger door. "Everyone grab onto something."

Callie stared impatiently at the red light. "You'd all be wise to listen and do that, 'cause I ain't messin' around. If this car can get 100 miles an hour, I'm gonna know pretty darn fast."

J.J, Caroline, Minnie and Andy all huddled together in the back seat, anchoring themselves with the lap and shoulder belts.

"Ready when you are, chief," Caroline timidly ventured.

"Good," Callie breathed, revving the engine once more for good measure before the light turned green, and then they were racing. The numbers on the speedometer climbed, 20, 40, 60, 70 80—all the passengers held onto one another except for Lorna, who held onto as much of the car as she could. 90, 95, 99…Callie gritted her teeth and pushed down one notch harder on the gas pedal. Mashed into the back of their seats, the passengers all stared in wonder as the needle reached 100.

"Jesus Christ," whispered J.J.

"Don't let me die," Lorna groaned.

"Is everyone still alive?" Caroline asked quietly.

"AAAAAAAAAH!" shrieked Minnie and Andy.

"Thank God there are no stop signs, " Callie quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

"How would you know!?" Lorna shrieked.

Callie grimaced. "Jeez, lighten up, would'ja? It's just a little race, harmless all told."

J.J gave a breathless laugh. "That's the first time I've heard everyone charging to their goddamn death called 'harmless'."

"We're fine," Callie insisted. "Just a little more of this, maybe a turn, and it'll be over!"

"AAAAAAAAAH" everyone responded.

Callie sighed. "Whatever, losers." She eased up on the gas pedal. "See, we're decelerating. Everyone happy?"

"Yeah," said Lorna, letting out a long sigh and loosening her grip. "We're all real happy."

"Thank you," Andy said as the speedometer needle brushed 60. "Thank-" he saw a flash in the window as a silver car passed them by in the other lane. "Aw, no. Cece, you're gonna hate me, but-"

"That was Aaron, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Wait a second, guys." Minnie silenced the car as another vehicle came into view from the back window. This car was painted just like the Monaco, and had just put on its siren and lights.

Caroline cocked her head to the side. "Is that the police?"

"Sure enough," J.J cackled. "That's what they get, stupid-ass boys."

Callie sighed. "Yeah, real stupid." She punched the steering wheel.

"Something wrong, Cece?" Minnie inquired.

"Just think for a second," she snapped, then restrained herself. "What's going to happen, do you suppose, if Aaron's caught for speeding?"

"Ticket?" she guessed.

Cece nodded slowly. "And as soon as the cop writes that ticket he calls it in, and after he calls it in, Aaron and his car show up in the system, and God knows they're out looking for us already."

J.J frowned. "So you're saying that this race may have just screwed us?"

"Yep."

Lorna chuckled. "No so harmless now, is it?" She stopped, seeing the police car and Aaron's Bentley pulled over ahead of them. "Hey, let's get a little closer."

Callie obeyed. "Any clever ideas on how to get them out of this?" The car was silent. She shrugged. "Well then, I guess we're going with the old standard." She looked to the back seat. "I hate to do this to you all, but brace yourselves again."

The joyful yelling in the silver Bentley was loud enough, as it would seem, to drown out police sirens, so if it hadn't been for Chelsea breaking up the party to point out the flashing lights, they never would've realized they were being tailed by the authorities.

"Shit," Aaron muttered, starting to ease off the gas.

"About how fast were we going?" Chelsea asked, continuing to stare out the window.

Max leaned over. "We exceeded the generally regarded limit for distance and time by thirty miles an hour and far more rotations per minute of the engine." He turned to Aaron. "I hear that's bad for your car."

"Don't make me regret giving you shotgun." Now back down to normal speed, Aaron turned the wheel slightly to pull over. "Everyone just keep their mouths shut, and let me deal with the cop."

"Are you gonna get arrested?" Olivia asked timidly.

Aaron sighed. "For your sake Liv, I hope not."

"Will we have to be taken to the station?" Chelsea wondered.

"I don't think so," said Sam. He looked out the window on his side. "Probably just Aaron." He paused, his face losing all hope of light. "And they'd probably take the car, too."

"It's always nice to be around people who have faith in me." Aaron turned to Max as they stopped. "You're gonna help me pull this off, got it?"

"Anything you say, Cap." Max saluted.

"Right." Aaron paused, thinking. "Our story is that this is your car, you didn't know I was drunk until I started joyriding, and I was absolutely out of control until this moment."

Max frowned. "Are you drunk?"

"No, and this also isn't your car." Aaron rolled down the window. "Just play along, would'ja hippie boy?"

Max kept frowning. "That sounded derogatory."

Chelsea shrank down in her seat. "There's a cop coming."

"All right, everyone stay cool." Aaron spoke under his breath as he saw the policeman approach. "Back seat keep your mouths shut and Max, follow my lead." He leaned lazily out the window. "Hello?"

"Do you know how fast you were going, sir?" the cop asked him aggressively.

Aaron ignored him. "I need a burger, three orders of fries, a coke, two root beers, one lemonade, and some pancakes." He looked at Max. "Yeah, some pancakes."

"E-excuse me?" the uniform stammered, faltering.

Chelsea's eyes widened. "He's just a kid."

"Ssssh!" Sam hissed.

Max jumped in, remembering his part in the scheme. "Officer, I'm so sorry about this. This is actually my car, and he insisted on…"

"No, look." Chelsea nodded to the cop. "He's not that old. I think he's around your age, Sam. Do you know him?"

"No!" Sam said.

"Ssssh!" said Olivia.

Chelsea leaned over to her. "Olivia, doesn't that policeman look young?"

Sighing, Olivia looked. "Yeah, you're right."

"Is he even allowed to pull us over?" Chelsea mused, turning to see out the back window. "Yeah," she said, markedly less excited. "I guess with an older, higher-up guy in the front seat with him he can do whatever he wants."

"…and so we ended up out here and running into you," Max was finishing. "We're totally sorry man, you have my honest word it won't happen again."

The cop winced. "No offense intended sir, but how did you not know your friend here was drunk?"

Max was silent. "You have my honest word it won't happen again," he repeated finally.

"You can be assured it most certainly will not," the cop answered, starting to flare up again.

"Wait a minute…" Olivia pointed out Chelsea's window. "Check and see what last name it says on his pocket."

Chelsea strained. "For being quiet, we're sure moving around a lot." She turned to Olivia with no success. "Can't see. But, why do you want to find out his last name? Do you know him?"

Olivia shook her head. "I just have the oddest feeling…"

Right then, a crackling noise came from the cop's belt. Looking embarrassed, he answered his walkie-talkie. "Chamberlain to Squad Ten, I told you, I've got this under control!"

"Chamberlain," Chelsea reported.

Olivia nodded. "I thought his voice sounded familiar." She leaned forward to the front seat. "Max!" she whispered. "We've found something out!"

"Discoveries are excellent," Max whispered back, looking sideways to make sure the cop didn't have an eye on him. "What did you find out?"

"You remember that kid who used to sing with us on Friday nights? The one Care Bear said she could barely keep up with that left because he said his dad was forcing him into the police academy?"

Max frowned. "What about Bill?" he asked, forgetting to whisper.

" 'Scuse me?" said the cop looking back at the car.

Max looked at him, doing a double-take. "Billy? Billy Chamberlain?"

The cop's eyes narrowed as he peered closer inside the window. "Who are you?"

Aaron had flattened himself against the back of the seat and his eyes were slowly moving back and forth between Max and 'Billy.' "What the hell, hippie boy?"

Max ignored him, still speaking to the policeman. "Don't you remember, Billy? The Blue Note? We headlined together there, man. We even had a duet. Little Walter."

"My Babe." The cop nodded to himself, slowly circling the car to Max's side.

"Is this good or bad, do you know?" Sam quietly asked Olivia.

She smiled. "You'll see."

There was a moment of intense silence as the sound of footsteps came to a halt and the policeman stood in front of Max's window. Calmly, Max rolled it down. " 'sup, Billy?"

"Maxwell Marini, my main man Max!" Breaking into a smile, Billy slapped him five. "Where you been, man?" He looked past him to Aaron in the front seat. "And how'd you get mixed up with this dude?"

Max sighed, giving his usual relaxed expression. "That, my friend, is a long story."

Billy glanced back at the squad car behind them. "Is it a story that might possibly get you out of this ticket?"

Max groaned. "Hey man, why you gotta do us like that?"

Billy shrugged. "Wish there was something I could do. If it were just me and y'alls I might could've let you slide, but I've got eyes on me now." He sighed. "I've had eyes on me since the academy, man. I'd do anything to be back with you, Care Bear and Liv, playing the Blue Note again."

Aaron let out his own sigh of frustration. "Just tell him."

Max turned his head. "Tell him what?"

"The thing. The thing we're doing all together here."

Max frowned. "But Cece usually tells people the thing."

Aaron blew a raspberry. "Well I don't see her here to tell him, do you? My car, my rules." He turned to face Billy himself. "Besides, I don't think any of the rest of us would have anything against another singer if it gets the pigs off our back."

Billy looked at Max. "Mind lettin' me know what he's on about?"

Max nodded, motioning him closer, then put his hands in his lap and started the pitch. "See Billy, we're putting a band together…"

Callie impatiently tapped the steering wheel from their hiding spot behind the other police car. "What's taking them so long?"

Jezebel shifted upright in her seat to stretch. "That's what I'd like to know. They playin' 20 questions or what?"

Cece rolled down her window and cautiously leaned out. "Looks like the cop's talking to Max now."

"But Max wasn't even driving!" Andy shouted out.

"That's what's worrying me a little." She was silent for a moment, and then frowned. "I hear laughing."

"Maybe Max and the cop are old friends," said Minnie.

"I don't think we know any cops, Minnie…" Caroline trailed off. "Wait. There was that one who we used to do Blue Note gigs with that went off to the Police Academy…"

"Sssh!" Callie commanded. "Something's happening?" She watched as the cop tucked his ticket pad into his belt. "He's putting the tickets away. We won't be reported to the sys-!" she froze in the middle of her celebration as the door to the Bentley's back seat popped open. "Someone's getting out." She watched in confused horror as her guess was proven wrong. "He's getting in! The cop! Why is he getting in?"

"I don't really think that's what you should be worried about at the moment." Lorna pointed to the squad car ahead of them, where another policeman was exiting the front seat and heading for their silver counterpart.

"You're right, it's go time." Callie shifted the Monaco out of park and turned backward. "You know how I told you all a while ago to brace yourselves, then bailed on it?"

"Yep," said Jezebel, pulling her feet up onto her seat.

"Well, I'm actually going to execute that old standard this time, so you all best be ready when I do."

"Aye aye, captain." Everyone with a seatbelt tightened it, and Andy and Jezebel held Caroline's hands.

Callie slowly navigated the car out from their spot and crept them toward Aaron's group. "Ready?"

"As we'll ever be," said Caroline, not sounding at all sure.

Callie chuckled. "If that's as good as it gets, I'll take it." She continued to slowly cruise up alongside the other group and as the front windows lined up, she braked for a split second. "Step on it, Aaron!" she shouted, and floored the gas.

"Sorry we can't stay," Aaron told the other cop, matching Callie speed and leaving him in the dust.

"YEEEEEAH!" yelled the Bentley passengers.

"AAAAAAAH!" screamed the Monaco passengers.

Callie rolled her eyes. "Calm down, you wussies. This really isn't so different from a roller coaster."

Lorna gulped, holding onto the door handle. "I beg to differ."

"Me too!" said Andy. "On roller coasters you're fully strapped in and they hold your loose belongings for you."

"Just shut your trap and don't lose your lunch," J.J growled.

Minnie frowned. "Andy, my side is vibrating. Is that your phone?"

"Oh yeah, thanks!" He reached into his pocket and answered it with a free hand. "What do you want?...Yeah, I'm fine…Yeah…he says to tell Cece what?!...Oh. Yeah, I can do that…All right…Yeah, whatever bro." He clicked the phone shut.

J.J groaned loudly. "Andy, whatever you do, please don't say 'bro' ever again."

"So what's up?" Cece asked.

Andy made a face. "Apparently, Aaron says he wants pizza."

Cece frowned. "How'd we get to food from escaping the cops?"

"That's what I wanted to ask him! But it was too loud in the background and I didn't feel like repeating myself." Andy carefully put his phone back in his pocket. "I don't wanna be rude, but can we slow down soon?"

"Sure thing, junior." Callie let up slightly on the gas. "We should be slowing down and keeping our eyes out anyway. Unless we know any more night-music clubs to try, we need to grab something to eat and find a place where it's cheap to shack up for the night."

Lorna looked out her window. "Hey, isn't that a flashing sign way off in the distance?"

"It just may be," said Callie as the Monaco came to a stop at the first road sign in miles. "Wherever we end up, we'll pull over into the parking lot and order pizza while someone goes in and asks about room rates."

Caroline slowly raised her hand. "I volunteer. I'm good with people and I'm carrying money."

Callie nodded once. "Good, 'cause I sure as heck wasn't gonna do it." She peered at the sign as they got closer. "Yes sir, that's most definitely a motel sign."

Lorna winced. "Probably dirty as all hell."

"Also seedy," Care Bear added.

"But that means they'll be cheap, right?" Minnie asked hesitantly.

"That's what we're hoping." Callie turned into the parking lot with the Bentley right behind them and took the parking space closest to the curb. "Andy, go tell your brother our plan, Care Bear, go and charm the seedy pants off the owner of this place, not literally, and Minnie and J.J, follow Andy and help Aaron order our food. Break."

"What about me, chief?" Lorna asked after they had left.

Callie looked at her, pushing back her shades. "You can tell me I'm not crazy." She sat back in her seat, letting out a long breath. "And that we're going to be ready for this gig in time."

"Look at this." His drinking buddy flicked the evening paper across the table to him, blotter earmarked. "It's your Saint Helen's girls again."

Elwood slowly opened the pages to look. Sure enough, right smack in the middle of the page was a color picture titled 'Blues Sisters?'. It showed the two girls they'd been chasing before coming out of a club called the Backbeat and opening the doors of a police car.

"Can you believe it?" his buddy was saying. "A police car. And look at the getup on this one chick." He pointed to Callie. "Un-believable."

"Don't call her a chick, Joe," said Elwood without looking up.

Joe laughed loudly. "What's wrong with 'chick'? It's a perfectly good word, it's in the dictionary for cryin' out loud!"

"Chicks are birds, and a slang collective for women with loosely-defined morals." Elwood looked up darkly. "Chicks are the women you hire every other Tuesday to do your dirty work, so don't you go using that word to talk about a girl barely old enough to see a dirty movie on her own." He threw the paper back at Joe and left the table.

"Oh come on Elwood, lighten up!" Joe called after him. "Not like you know her personally or anything. She sorta dresses like you do, is that it?"

Elwood leaned on the bar, peeking at the bartender over his shades. "Sometimes, I just wanna strangle that guy."

The bartender smiled, shaking his head. "Don't we all." He turned and straightened the shelf behind him. "Unfortunately he's a regular, and one of your friends if I'm not mistaken."

"Not tonight he isn't."

"I'm sorry to hear that." The bartender leaned on the bar from his own side. "What'll it be?"

Elwood sighed, taking a seat. "Advice, if you wouldn't mind it too much."

"Costs seven bucks and comes with a beer." A tall glass was filled and put down. "What's on your mind?"

Elwood put the drink aside. "Say you had this friend—you cared for this guy an awful lot and you guys had always been there for eachother. One day say you find out his kid's in trouble and there's nothing he can do about it. Think it's your place to, you know, step in?"

"That all depends." The bartender wiped clean the other end of the bar as he spoke. "When you say trouble, do you mean serious trouble?"

Elwood took a drink. "I wouldn't be asking you if we were dealing with a problem talking back."

"I see." The bartender stopped in front of Elwood again. "And this friend of yours, why can't he do anything about it?"

"Dead." Elwood took a larger drink.

"That's a shame." The bartender leaned on the bar again. "How was this kid's relationship with the father before he passed on?"

"Never knew 'im." He finished the beer. "Had a heart attack and died right after she was born. She got carted off to the same lost-and-found organization her dad and I grew up in and I haven't seen her since."

"Daddy's little girl, huh?" The bartender leaned closer. "So that little spat with Joe was over a little more than just word choice, eh?"

"Possibly." Elwood stood up. "So what's the answer, doc? What've I gotta do about this here thing?"

The bartender shrugged. "If you think you can find your friend's little girl on your own, then go head her off before she gets into more trouble. Otherwise, you'd better stay put so she can come to you. A father figure's what she needs, whether she knows it or not." He turned on the radio. "But in the meantime, relax, have another." He refilled Elwood's glass. "Nothing you can do about it tonight, right?"

"You've got it." Elwood stared lazily at the drink as the music floated through the room.

_**Boom boom boom boom**_

_**Gonna shoot you right down**_

_**Knock you off your feet**_

_**Take you home with me**_

_**Put you in my house**_

_**Boom boom boom boom**__**…**_

"_**Thank you for listening to WBLU 96.3, Chicago area's top blues station, we know all of you need some musical motivation to get yourselves up on such a gray morning like this with the rain coming, so here's some Sonny Boy Williamson."**_

The scream of the harmonica pulled Callie out of a deep sleep and sat her straight up in shock. Barely registering her own thoughts, she felt around for the portable radio until she found it and managed to turn down the volume. What all had gone on the night before? Everything was blurred, like the last day had been a dream.

"This must be what a hangover feels like," she mumbled.

"It can't be a hangover, Callie."

Callie slowly turned toward the source of her partner's voice. "How would either of us know? We've never been drunk before."

"Given the fact that no-one bought booze last night, I think we're pretty much in the clear." Lorna slowly sat up. "But I know what you mean, kid. I feel like we're going to wake up any second back in those Saint Helen's cots." She stretched her arms. "Did the boys steal all the pizza? I don't see any boxes around."

"Uh yeah, I think so." Callie recalled the stampede the group had brought upon the poor, unarmed deliveryman. "I think we girls managed to horde all of one for ourselves. But we all ate."

"On Max and Caroline's money," Lorna pointed out.

Callie sighed. "Yeah, I know. But once we get a full ensemble together, we can start playing gigs and making our own money. We'll pay them back." She sat up and then stood up, brushing herself off. "You'll see. And it won't be long now." She counted in her head, looking offhandedly up at the ceiling. "We've got a drummer, a bari sax player, alto and tenor sax players, a bassist, harmonica player, keyboardist, a trumpet player, one guitarist, two—no, three singers…" she added in Billy, the new guy Aaron and Max had brought her. "All we need is a trombonist, and possibly another guitar player."

More awake now, Lorna wrapped her blanket around her waist and went in search of her jeans. "We should ask Aaron if he has any friends." She shook them out, let the blanket drop and slipped back into them. "You know, guitar-playing friends," she corrected herself. "I mean of course he has friends, just not all of them play-"

"Guitar, yeah, I know." Callie gave Lorna a dubious look. "Is there something going on between you and him?"

Lorna gave a very fake laugh. "Of course not, Callie! Why would you think there was?"

"Sorry, my bad." Callie put her hands in the air, looking around at the other sleeping bodies as her friend balanced on one foot to re-shoe herself. "Maybe the word 'between' was inaccurate. Is there something going on with you that might have something to do with him?"

Lorna glared over at her. "You wouldn't ask me if you weren't already certain there was."

"I'm not one to judge," Callie said, backing up again and now realizing she'd slept in all of her clothes, sans jacket. "I was just concerned when I saw you two sitting at a millimeter distance last night and his hand was going for your butt."

"What?!" Lorna lost her balance, falling ungracefully onto her side.

"Strike!" Callie crowed triumphantly.

"You little shit," Lorna groaned. After a short pause, she looked up again. "He wasn't really trying to grope me last night, was he?"

Callie shook her head with a giant grin. "Nah."

"You little shit," Lorna repeated.

"But you love me." Callie stepped over Minnie and knocked on the adjoining door. "Rise and shine, boys! It's gray outside, but it's still morning. Up and at 'em, we roll in thirty!"

A low, threatening murmur was heard on the other side of the door, followed by several thumps as shoes collided with it.

"They're awake," Callie concluded. She gave a single last knock. "Oh, and Aaron? I need to talk to you once you're fully functioning."

She heard a shuffling and then an almost clawing at the door and it opened on Aaron, who had apparently moved all the way across the room in horizontal position and was still that way.

"Come in, dear leader," he said drowsily, scooting back again so she could get through. "Cover yourselves in the presence of the lady midget!" he called out, crossing his legs under his blanket. "So Cece, what's up?"

She looked hesitantly around the room at the males waking up, wishing there was a polite way to plug her nose. "I'll make it fast. On an inventory, we're only two players short of a full blues-jazz lineup. Do you know anyone who could help us out on a second guitar?"

Aaron nodded as he rubbed his right eye. "As a matter of fact, I do."

"Really?" Callie said in near-disbelief. "That was easy."

"Yeah, lucky you." Aaron straightened up. "O not-so-lucky you, depending on how you like Marty."

"Tell me about him." Callie squatted. "Is he good? Does he take criticism? Would he go along with this?"

Aaron chuckled. "Whoa there, Sherlock Holmes." He raised one leg up to stand and then thought better of it. "Marty's a decent player. He's a good kid mainly, he'll do what you ask him to, and I think he'd jump at the chance for something like this."

"Well, great!" Callie stood up again. "Everybody out clothes on, we'll go in search of cheap breakfast and then we'll go and get him. You can lead us to his house, right?"

"Sure," Aaron said, standing up as well. He's not too far away from my place, so it'll be a cinch." He frowned. "Unless my dad called the cops on me. Then we'd have the police combing the neighborhood."

"Yeah, and they're probably following descriptions of the Monaco already." Callie crossed her arms. "Darn legal system."

"Uh, excuse me…" Billy emerged from the bathroom in a t-shirt and the pants from his uniform. "I think there's a very simple solution to that problem, if you wanna hear it."

Callie raised her eyebrows in surprise. "By all means, unless it involves terrorism or possible death, in which case-"

"Oh no ma'am, nothing like that. Just a little change in the lineup. You can keep the Bentley and your squad car. I just need you to do one thing."

"What's that?"

"Let me drive."

"I'm glad you guys thought of this!" Andy sat happily in shotgun as a fully-uniformed Billy piloted the Monaco. "It's sneaky and convincing!"

"I'm glad you approve," drawled Callie from the floor of the back seat. "Even if for you it only means getting away from Minnie's butt."

"Hey…" Minnie pouted.

"No offense," Callie added, almost to herself.

"It was nice of Thorn to volunteer to go with Aaron," said Care Bear, changing the subject.

Callie made a rude noise. "Yeah, real nice."

"What's the matter with you?" J.J nudged Callie's shoulder with her foot. "Ain't you ever had a crush before?"

Callie shrugged. "Sure, and Thorn has too, but we never got all goo-goo mushy like this."

"Welcome to the real world." J.J leaned against the window. "Are we there yet?"

"To the real world or the new guy's house?" Andy asked confusedly.

J.J rolled her eyes. "The new guy's house, Andy." She shook her head. "Day and Night. I'm pretty sure your brother wasn't born yesterday, but you mighta been born last night."

"Cool it you two," said Callie, sitting up a little. "Save that quipping and thinking on your feet until we can get you behind a good pair of microphones." She looked up at Billy. "We slowing down?"

"Yep, we're here." Billy put on the brakes and parked the car. "Bentley man said follow his lead, so we'll just wait right here while he opens the door for Miss Lorna…"

Minnie smiled. "Living proof that chivalry's not dead."

Callie made a face and another rude noise. "Oh please. If love were as simple as men doing things for women, we'd all be set back about fifty years in social progress." She crawled over J.J's legs and let herself out. "Everyone out, we're following them now."

"Hold up." Billy got out and caught up to her. "So how exactly is this going to work?"

Cece kept walking. "We go in, meet the kid, pitch the plan, and get out hopefully without having to deal with any parental figures."

Billy scratched his head. "And how long does that usually take?"

"An hour, hour and a half, two…it depends on how many hoops they have us jump through before we can get to effective persuasion." She put her hands in her pockets, looking dubiously at the brightly painted house. "Let's just hope this kid won't be too hard a sell."

"Oh God yes! I'll do it!" Marty stared back at the group, flushed with excitement. "You did ask me to go with you, right? It wasn't just my imagination?"

Callie smiled uncomfortably. "No Marty, it wasn't just that."

"Not just that," said Lorna, sidling up to her partner in crime for a fist bump.

"Glad to see you're alive," Callie said before turning to Aaron on her other side. "Does he look like that all the time?"

Aaron winced. "If you're referring to the sweat, yes, he sweats 24 hours a day as far as I know, but if you're referring to the awkward facial hair, that's fairly new, and I do not approve."

"I'm glad we agree." Callie faced Marty again. "Do you own your own guitar?"

"Yeah, I keep it right here under the couch." He backed up towards it. "Do you want me to play for you?"

"That's all right," Callie said quickly. "You don't have to do that. We trust you."

"Not that we don't want to hear you play," Aaron added on, giving Cece a light punch on the shoulder. 'They know you're good, I vouched for you. It's just that we're in a little bit of a hurry, and-"

"Oh, no problem!" Marty quickly retrieved his guitar case from under the couch, but now without the purpose of playing for his audience. "We can get out of here now if you want. I'm ready."

Aaron slapped him on the back. "Let's hit the road then!"

"That was easy," Lorna whispered to Callie.

"Too easy," Callie agreed. "We'd better get out of here before we're jinxed."

"I just need my guitar in its case," Marty was saying, somehow oblivious to the discomfort in the atmosphere. "I don't need a change of clothes, I wear the same ones just about every day…"

"I believe him," said J.J, turning away to gag and hold her nose from the sweaty stench.

"Doesn't matter dude, let's go." Taking matters into his own hands, Andy grabbed Mary by the sleeve and began to pull him along with the group towards the door.

"If anything, the pulling's slowing us down," Lorna wagered.

Callie glanced quickly at the side hallway as they passed. "Quiet comes before quick," she said, picking up the pace herself. "If we can exit this house without anyone else knowing we're gone, it's a victory."

"You know, thanks again for thinking of me on this," Marty was saying to Aaron, "it means a whole lot—just let me tell my dad we're leaving. HEY DAD! I'M GOING SOMEWHERE WITH AARON AND HIS FRIENDS!"

"So much for quiet," said Lorna.

"So much for victory," muttered Callie.

"Well, this sure is a lot of friends, isn't it?" A man they could only assume was Marty's dad stepped into the room. His bushy hair was severely grayed with one or two rebel spots of auburn, and his voice carried the ever-so-slightest southern lilt. "Looks more like a party. Where y'all going?"

"Into the city, around there, and the House of Blues!" Marty gushed excitedly. "They want me to play in their band!"

"That so, Aaron?"

Aaron nodded. "That's so, Mr. Dunn."

"Huh." Chelsea looked thoughtful. "I never thought I'd meet someone else with the same last name. Small wonders."

"It would be if it were true, Squawkie," said Aaron, ignoring her glare, "but these two happen to spell it minus the silent 'e'."

Chelsea gave him a look. "And how was I supposed to know that?"

"Telepathy and magic," said Lorna, looking at Callie in wonder. "You weren't even trying this time and you ran your game. How is that possible?"

"Small wonders," said Callie, repeating Chelsea's maxim. She turned to Marty's father. "Mr. Dunn sir, we'd very much appreciate it if we were able to steal your son for a short time. We will not engage in any unnecessary dangerous or criminal activities, we will all treat him fairly as a competent fellow artist, and I assure you I'll have him home safe and sound as soon as the big gig's over and done with."

"Well, I'll be damned." He looked intently at Callie for a moment, then shook his head. "Sorry for my staring little miss, but you run a pitch like someone else in the music biz. It was some years back I came across the guy-"

Marty groaned. "Here we go. Dad, we don't need to hear your old blues band stories, they're boring. Aaron said they're in a hurry."

"All right, all right, just cool it a little…" he swept another glance across the group. "I'm perfectly happy to release my boy into the collective hands of y'all here, 'specially Aaron since he and Marty've known eachother the longest. All I need is a word or two with your leader." He motioned Callie forward.

"Yes, sir?" she asked.

He bent down to her height and spoke in a low voice. "I'm not quite as dumb as I'm pretending to be, Miss Curtis. I've read the paper like everyone else and I know you and your taller friend are wanted by the police. That is your name, right? Calloway Curtis?"

She nodded. "Yes sir," she whispered.

He nodded once in confirmation, then continued. "All that said, I think I know a little more about you than the papers." He scratched behind his ear. "The only reasons my pal Jake Blues ever intentionally fell out of touch with anyone but Elwood in the old days was jail or the ladies, and anyone who thinks convicts are regularly jailed nine months at a time have got to be one piece short of a set." He gave a half-smile as he saw Callie's eyes widening. "Yeah, I know who you are, I knew it when you walked in. Not with the clothes, but with the attitude. Jake always had that. That look on his face like he had a goddamn pink slip to the world. You play your dad pretty good kid, even if the coat doesn't really fit just yet."

Callie gulped. "Thank you, sir."

"Come on now, don't start crying on me, you've got to be the hero for these here people. Buck up a little. That's it." He patted her on the back and looked over her head to the rest of them. "You kids are good to go. Knock 'em dead!"

"Thanks Dad!" called Marty as he ran out at the front of the pack.

"So what did he want?" Lorna asked Callie as they made it outside.

"He knows who I am."

Lorna looked worried. "And?"

Callie sighed. "He gives his blessing?"

Lorna was taken aback. "Oh. That's…nice?"

"Sure is." Callie looked toward the rest of the band, piling like clowns into the half-legal transportation. "Because I think it's the only blessing we're going to get."

_45 minutes later…_

"All right," Callie said breathlessly as everyone squeezed back into the Monaco. "Inventory. Everybody here and accounted for?"

"Check!" said Lorna.

"And we've established the lady car and the man car?"

"Yep," said J.J. "But I heard Sam and Andy getting' real mad at eachother back there, so don't be too surprised if we end up at some gas station without the little guy."

Callie rolled her eyes. "Understood. Seven in each vehicle, correct?"

"Including the two new recruits in Aaron's car," Lorna confirmed. "Michael Murphy and Bobby Joe Malone…" she leaned over to whisper the last, "completing your next generation set, which I still don't see as existing let alone you collecting all of them."

"Because I'm amazing," Callie said with a brief smile, then went all-business again. "So, refresh me, Michael is our trombonist and Bobby Joe is-?"

"A professional backup singer," Lorna admitted guiltily. "He insisted on coming along and it looks like he and Michael are close, so…"

"I'm sure we'll think of something," said Callie dismissively. "Worst comes to worst, we'll invest in a set of bongos." She turned to the back seat. "By the way, I'll bet you didn't think you'd get serenaded today, did you?"

J.J shook her head in awe. "I don't know how old Mrs. Murphy is, but I sure hope I can sing like her when I'm getting' on."

"And how about that number?" Callie turned the key in the ignition. "That lady's got good taste."

"You know it, baby!" Minnie called out. "Aretha Franklin, 'Chain of Fools'!"

"All together now!" Lorna shouted. "1,2,3,4!"

_**Chain chain chain**_…


End file.
